The Brotherhood's Creed
by thompsongunner91
Summary: The time traveling couldn't be just limited to Desmond, could it? This time, Shaun Hastings is dragged into the mix, the historian going to live the history he studied as the Assassins race to aid the Brotherhood in their battle against Cesare Borgia and the Templar Order.
1. Prologo

**You know who all the old folks belong to by now, right, so Husam belongs to Krono and AC © to Ubisoft.**

**Thanks to all who've read and become fans of this series thus far. Now for your entertainment and reading pleasure, **_**The Brotherhood's Creed: Venimus**_** begins.**

San Gimignano, Italy  
1497

"Are you sure about this, _sayyid_?" The red-hooded man looked at the younger man in an equally red hood. The color was almost black against the darkness of the sky beyond, highlighted only by the faintest pricks of light as the torches were doused in the monastery below where he had hidden for the past several years as, if not a monk, an extended guest.

The young man he had fished from the ocean on one of his return travels to the Levant looked back at him, the scars marring his features the more distinguishable sight for their pallor against his dark skin, showing beneath the shadows of his hood.

"I am never sure about anything anymore, Husam," said the Night Master, his glowing blue eyes staring unblinkingly from beneath his hood, "but this is a mission I am determined to do alone." The man hopped down from the low roof and landed in the middle of a huddled mass of men in hoods, some in plain brown robes and some in the same red as Husam and he. Two torches lit the area at the doorway to the monastery in which the monks and his men stood.

"Safety and peace be upon you all," stated Jameel, looking each man in the face. One of the taller monks, one so tall he could look Jameel in the eye, put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a fond squeeze.

"God be with you, brother," said the man. "We will not stop you, for we know by now from your years with us that this is impossible, but we will pray for your safe return all the same." Jameel nodded and returned the squeeze with a brief embrace, nodding to a smaller monk who took his hand and mounting a horse, heading into the mountains beyond the village.

The Crow Nest, Somewhere in the Middle East  
1498

_1498, month unknown, location unknown_

A year. A year and through it all I've been allowed the freedom of my words, of these pages. I only know the change of the year for the courtesy of my captors. Courtesy. Courtesy...

They taunt me at every chance. My hands... My words are written as if with the hands of an old man. My hands have not stopped shaking from the last assault. They drug me, score my flesh, give me at least a few days or a week to heal, depending on my condition, and then repeat the process. New drugs, new effects, new bones to be broken. He is here, the Lion... I...

Jameel awoke to find himself bound in iron by his wrists, head bowed to his chest. The stone-walled torture room had become familiar as his cell. Grogginess hung over him, a slight ache in his neck. _More drugs..._ He sighed, dragging his head from its resting place to look as the door to the room swung open. He wished he hadn't. The grogginess turned to a splitting headache.

_Damn this building, damn its inhabitants, damn it all!_ his mind screeched as the Lion shut the door with more force than necessary, causing a loud, echoing _bang_ throughout the room.

"Have you rested well, Scarlet Owl?" asked the Metal Lion.

"I've had worse, but I take it this visit isn't to exchange banter with me, is it, Templar?" snarled the captive.

"You're correct in that." The Lion clasped his hands behind his back, strolling the space before him. Just when Jameel was about to sigh and ask what he really wanted, the Lion said, "What do you think of me, Assassin?"

"Excuse me?" The captive startled, staring at the metal-clad man. What game was he playing now?

"What do you see in me? How do you feel about me? One human being to another, I mean." The Lion stopped and focused his eyes on him.

"You hardly qualify as a human being." The icy eyes narrowed. The Templar cackled, throwing his lion-mawed head back with it.

"Oh, that is quite the statement coming from you!" He lowered his head to look him in the eyes once more. "Quite the statement indeed, Assassin. Or should I call you by the correct term? Murderer." He began to pace again, now more like his likeness, the lion prowling its cage in a menagerie, gazing at the man watching like the keeper he could easily make into a meal. "Yes, murderer. Wrecker of homes. The man who makes orphans of children."

Jameel frowned. Was this some new poison working at his brain? The Lion shook his head. "You don't remember? Well, of course, how can I expect you to remember, Scarlet Owl? You who've killed so many. You don't remember them, do you? My father and mother? I found them, you know. My mother you left whole but for the rent in her stomach. My father...well, he was all about the room, and his blood with him. You've a knack for rending flesh from bone and bone from corpse, I've seen in these years. And you never once thought to become a butcher? It pays handsomely, though not as handsomely as the butchering of men, surely."

He stopped. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. Please, answer my questions."

_Mother? What mother? This thing has a mother?_ Jameel wished he could have passed a hand over his eyes and settled for wiping his face against his arm. _I never killed any woman. As if he'll believe this._ The Red Owl glared at the man and answered, "I see nothing more than a Templar brat in silly armor. One more man that needs to die." For a moment, the Metal Lion almost seemed taken aback, as if he'd expected to hear anything but this. Then he moved forward so they were nose to maw.

"Nightmares you've given me all these years, Scarlet Owl, and now I've decided to return the favor." He leaned and whispered into Jameel's ear before exiting the room much as he'd come, the door banging shut behind him. The Red Owl was left dangling on the wall, eyes fixed wide and staring.

**Sayyid = Master**

**Chapter 1 will be written next weekend. See you then, fair readers. Safety and peace, and you keep reading and I'll keep writing. Also, if any of you have taken a look at my tumblr, Ask Birds' Nest Wednesdays will not be Ask the Birds' Nest Saturdays, as Wednesdays I have night class.**


	2. Venimus Chapter I

**AC and its charas belong to Ubisoft. **

**Thanks to Tobi and Smeggi for the comments. This chapter is dedicated as Tobi's very special birthday present number 2. :3**

Jameel started awake, breathing hard. Sweat stood out on his brow, rolling down from it to his shoulders. He looked around. The inside of the van was dark and vacant but for himself and Skandar, who lay clasped in his arms.

Skandar... He looked down at the Sparrow, brushing the hair back from his face.

"Wake up." Lex groaned, fingers tapping against his cheek. "_Yallah._ Wake up." Sighing, the younger immortal dragged his eyes open. "We're here."

"Right you are, chaps, and it's been bloody boring outside waiting for you to wake up," added Shaun as he swung the doors to the back of the van open from the outside. Beyond him, they could see squat houses, a Vespa, and one of those little European cars, as well as the gates to the walled village, complete with portcullis, which was shut. Above, the velvety, blue-black sky was sprinkled with a good helping of stars.

Well, someone still locks their doors, Lex thought as he climbed down quickly from Jameel's lap and out onto the bricks that made up the road beneath his feet. Once Jameel had dropped down beside them, the three, along with Desmond, Lucy, and Rebecca, made their way to the back of the Villa Auditore, which rose up before them.

After climbing over the fence that separated them from the back of the house—Lex needing a little help when his jeans' leg was caught on one of the decorative spikes that sat atop the fence—they walked toward the back of the building. Lucy and Rebecca went to the back doors to try them, but it was no good. They were shut from the inside, or so it seemed.

The girls conversed with Shaun on their best means of entry as Jameel, Desmond, and Lex looked toward the fencing. Behind it and the wall was a steep drop, they saw when the lightest of their little trio was lifted up onto the taller men's shoulders and peered over the edge. That was when they spotted the hole in the fencing. Rather, when Desmond spotted it.

The barkeep stared at the hole with rapt attention so that the Red Owl and Sparrow wondered if he saw something they didn't.

"Maybe a ghost?" Lex suggested in a hushed tone.

"Why are you whispering?" Jameel muttered, though a slight shiver rolled up his spine at the mention of ghosts. The Eagle crawled up the wall and called to Shaun, Lucy, and Rebecca, "Hey, I'll be back!" He spread his arms and jumped from the wall in a Leap of Faith.

Grinning, Jameel and Lex jockeyed for position atop the small edge in the wall, finally managing to stand side by side for a moment, fence digging into their shoulder blades before they too fell toward the pile of hay below. The bartender groaned as the others crashed down onto him, looking at them.

"It's not Haysley, Dessy," Lex joked. The older man took a swipe at him before Lucy dropped down to meet them. Jameel raised his head and looked up at Shaun and Rebecca.

"Are you two coming to join us?"

"Who? Us? Me? Nope, no, not happening," Shaun called. "I like to keep my feet firmly on solid ground, no exceptions, unless it's in a pressurized tube miles above the ea—" His last word became a scream as he dropped toward the hay, flailing his arms and legs. Gasping as he surfaced from the stuff, he yelled up at Rebecca, "Bloody wanker, coulda killed me! Idiot! Fine! Fine! You get the bloody truck this time!" Stomping out of the hay and picking some from his sweater-vest, Shaun marched after Jameel, Lex falling in beside him as they moved after Lucy and Desmond.

As they walked, the historian looked around, inspecting the underground system of levers, pullies, and the like that the group had to navigate to get anywhere in the labyrinth of caverns.

"The crypts should be around here somewhere," Jameel murmured to himself as they went, gasping as he dropped into a small underground lake of water. "Damn you, Ezio!"

"Owl got wet," Lex laughed. The Red Owl shot him one of his blizzard glares before swimming on after the man in the white hoodie. Lex dove in after him, Shaun grousing all the while as he splashed along behind.

The group climbed higher, up a series of steps and over a wooden platform system. Lex slowed as they came to a dirt track, looking off to one side. Jameel glanced that way as well before reaching back and taking the Sparrow by the wrist, leading him onward.

Finally, they found the end of the maze, pushing open the doors. Rubble lay strewn about the floor, but the statues were intact. Lex looked around the Sanctuary, the place he had left with Desmond from the Renaissance. The last place he had seen his little brother—_now rumored to be alive and kicking just like Jameel,_ he reminded himself—the same village he'd left his elder brother, his blind elder brother behind.

Going up the nearby stairs, Lucy opened the door to let Rebecca inside. The group began to set up their equipment as Shaun took him to one side with Jameel and sat down on a trunk full of stuff. Desmond, meanwhile, told to keep his sticky fingers away from sensitive electronics, collapsed in a folding chair.

"I want to test out a little hypothesis," said Shaun. "I'm wondering, see, if only Desmond can go back—"

"I'm not going back again!"

"Oh, come off it, knobhead!" Shaun returned his attention to the two men. "Listen now, what if I went back with Lex? Maybe we can give that a try, hmm? See how it goes?"

"You realize that you'll be gone for a while over there, right?" Lex asked. "We stayed for about a year in Masyaf."

"Well, then, let's get going." Shaun stood up and looked around. "Everybody game?"

"Dessy might have to stand upstairs," said Rebecca. Lex grinned as Desmond frowned.

"Okay." Lucy clapped her hands together. "Desmond, Becca, upstairs with me. Shaun," she said, turning to the man, every inch business like. Her face softened very slightly as she looked at him. "Be careful, all right?" The man nodded, looking toward the others. Jameel hugged Lex tight to his chest, so hard Shaun wondered if he was trying to snap his back.

Jameel lowered him down, looking at him for a full minute—Shaun checked his watch after the first few seconds and kept time—before bowing his head and pressing his lips to his brow. He squeezed his hands between his own, kissing them as well before giving him another quick embrace, releasing him and striding up the stairs quickly.

Shaun looked toward Lex. Lex shrugged and pocketed his hands.

"Well? Is there anything I'll need? Papers, pencils, pens, duct-tape?"

"We usually bring just the stuff—oh, yeah, duct-tape. Please, bring that, I'm serious. Bring that." Shaun nodded and grabbed the roll of tape, picking up a messenger back and stuffing it in. Shaun shouldered the bag and looked at him expectantly. "What else do you have in there?"

"My tablet." Lex took out the tablet and set it on the desk.

"Take a journal. Pen and paper." Shaun nodded and picked up a leather-bound journal, putting it inside with a few pens. The two men went to stand beside Baby and looked at one another. "Well, here goes nothing." Lex reached toward Baby.

"Wait!" Shaun undid his belt and cinched it together with Lex's. "There. So we don't get separated."

"It's not _Sliders_, man, but if it makes you feel better..." Lex shrugged and twined their fingers as he grasped onto Baby.


	3. Venimus Chapter II

**Y'all thought I was dead, huh? No, was just swamped with college work. I'm sorry for not updating in almost three months. ;w; ;;;; Forgive the poor author for having to take time out of writing for other things. Anyway, here's chapter two.**

**AC and its charas belong to Ubisoft.**

Monteriggioni, Italy

December, 1499

Shaun awoke to a high, stone ceiling overhead. On either side of them stood stone figures, which made him flinch until he realized they weren't going to attack. Lex lay atop him.

"My head hurts," rasped the Brit.

"That's because you cracked yourself on the floor. You're okay, though. Didn't feel like anything'd been depressed into your brain," said the smaller time traveler.

"Oh, that's comforting." Shaun pushed himself up to a sit, separating their belts. "I suppose the refurbished decore means we're there?"

"Pretty sure." Lex stood and helped the historian to his feet. "Let's go upstairs and see what year it is." The two threaded their way up the stairs. Shaun stopped as they came to the top landing, grasping Lex's shirt to keep him back. The two peered into the office before them. No one was around.

The Englishman looked around the office slowly as they moved toward the door. In their own time, it was rumble, but now... Now it had a splendid wooden desk, one wall entirely covered with old pieces of parchment, a stone plinth in the center as- The man staggered as Lex yanked him along with a snap of, "_Yallah, yallah!_ We can admire Mario's decore later!"

The two padded through the villa, the Brit craning his neck to catch a glimpse of everything he could. Wooden doors and what looked like marble and through one door he glimpsed armor and through another he saw a woman speaking with a scruffy looking gent...

Then they were out in the sunshine again, the village of Monteriggioni sprawling before them. No cars or mopeds here. People walked the broad streets, some on horseback. Men atop the walls were busily doing something with cannons of all things! Shaun was about to open his mouth and ask if they could go up and see them up close when the two men heard a high-pitched "_AHKI!_" and a black and white blur slammed into Lex.

The redheaded man looked down at the little boy who was nuzzling into Lex's chest and babbling at fifty miles an hour for a while before he could finally manage, "Lex, who or what in all the hells is this?"

"This is Amir the Coal Tit. He's my brother." The boy noticed him then, eyes lighting up with mischievous glee as he threw himself into the Brit's arms and smacked him a large, wet kiss on each cheek before hopping down again.

"Charmed," Shaun muttered, wiping off his face. When Lex finally managed to get Amir to stop babbling, he asked, "Where's Badr?"

"Who?" The two were off before the question could be answered. "Yes, ignore me. I'll just... I'll follow along. Right, yeah, I'm coming. Don't wait up. Just continue being excitable little sods." The man wound his way through the crowd down the small market street, glancing into the shops. The street, unexpectedly, reeked; the smell came from a dyer's shop. The shop beside it had a man in a bird's mask; when he looked at him, the hairs on the back of his arms and neck rose. Turning his head away, he caught a glimpse of two more shops, an art salesman and a blacksmith, before he was out the front gate of the village.

Then a cold, wet nose as jammed into his crotch at fifteen miles an hour.

"Bourkan!" Shaun groaned as he opened his eyes and found a slobbery tongue smacking against his face. A dark hand reached out, scruffed the overly affectionate hound, and yanked him back. Looking down at him...well, more far to his right...was a man dressed in what looked like clothes raided from Sir Lawrence of Arabia's wardrobe. A strip of black cloth was wrapped around his eyes. "A thousand pardons, _messire_," he said in slightly accented Italian. "Bourkan is still young and tends not to listen at all at the best of times." A dark hand reached down; the Brit stared at where the man's ring finger was missing as he reached up and took it. He was yanked to his feet and almost off them again, stumbling against the other's chest. An arm closed around his back to steady him.

"Ah...um...I..." The Brit stammered, heard himself, and wanted to slap himself then and there. _Pull it together, Hastings, it's not your doctoral thesis!_ "_Sh-Shukran._" He looked at Lex as the smaller man came up to him and whispered, "It is _shukran_, yeah?"

"It is _shukran_." The man's voice was a husky whisper in his ear. "And you're welcome, though you'll find I'm blind, not deaf." The man looked in Lex's direction. "Brother, you said this man is an Englishman?"

"Yes, he is."

"Well, don't keep him waiting. Introduce us."

"You seemed like you were getting acquainted nicely without me, but if you insist." He took a breath and said in English, "This is my brother, Badr ibn Sharif ibn Asad al Miraj al Nasr de Arabia." He looked at Badr and switched to Arabic. "Did I get all that right?" A nod. "Great, because I'm not repeating it. Badr, this is Shaun Hastings of England." The blind man lifted a brow.

"Who is his father?" he asked in the old Arabic of Masyaf.

"I don't know."

"Where is he from in England?"

"London, I guess."

"You don't know that either? Did you not have a conversation with this man?"

"No, we've both been kind of busy with the whole saving the world from Templars thing." Both of the man's brows arched up over his blindfold. A disbelieving laugh left him.

"Is this your new novice, little brother?"

"He can be your novice if you want him, but right now are you satisfied with the introductions?"

"For now." He looked at the man. "But where are my manners? _Asalaamu alaykum._"

"_Wa alaykum asalaam,_" Shaun responded automatically, his face beginning to burn. "Um...yeah, well, so, Mr. Nars...Nasar... Bugger all!"

"Badr will suffice."

"Right. Badr. Can I have a wee bit of a bubble, mate?"

"Shaun. He's an Arab. Your concept of personal space does not exist."

"Bloody hell, is that why Desmond was trying to touch my things?"

"No. Most likely he was trying to touch your things because he's a novice's novice." Badr stepped back from the man, though he kept him well within arms' reach. "I don't suppose, brother, that you came simply to show off this man."

"No, we didn't, but..." Lex trailed off, looking around. "Badr, where's Jameel? Also, what year is it?"

"1499. it's December, too," Amir chimed in from where he was playing with the rambunctious guide dog in training.

"And right now, Skandar, we don't know where Jameel is, other than the fact that he's been captured yet again." The tall Arab stated it bluntly, almost annoyedly. Shaun winced at the look on Lex's face.

"Again?"

"Yes, again. Let me rephrase, though. We do not know where he is, but some others of ours may. You remember our friends the apothecaries from Venezia?"

"Psh. Of course."

"Travel there. The port cities harbor many men and their secrets are wagged casually on many tongues. Our friends will keep you safe while you commence your search. You'll no doubt receive a pigeon or owl from us should we find any further information. Amir, you will accompany him?"

"Yes! And I'll fly, too!" Amir jumped up and down and ran inside to perform a quick Leap from the wall of the village. Lex looked at Badr and clasped his hand. The man nodded to him and added, "Of course, I'll provide you with my swiftest mounts."

Lex laughed, "Just don't put Shaun on Fajera."

"No one touches Fajera without her permission." The man nudged them toward the stable, Shaun following. The Brit made a show of looking at the dish-faced horses, stopping in front of a white that was tossing around its head.

"I think this one looks good for me," he said. Badr moved over to him, one hand running along the stall doors until he brushed his free hand against Shaun's leg. He tapped the wooden door's top and looked at Shaun.

"If you wish to be thrown every few feet from here to Romagna by a randy stallion, feel free, Novice, but I've something a little tamer in mind for you. Unless you feel you can handle him."

"Oh, please, I've handled bigger." The Arab snorted and made an odd motion with his hand. Shaun lifted a brow, but finally understood the over-handed waving and followed after him to a stall on the left. He touched the horse's nose, taking Shaun's hand and pressing it there, allowing the animal to take in his scent.

"This is Nasira. She's a smooth gait and strong back and won't tire even from here to Rome."

"She's a girl too? I think I'm a better fit with the horny bloke back there."

"Then you know nothing, little colt. This woman is bred for war." Slipping a lead over Nasira's head, he drew her out of the stall and saddled her. "I'll take it you know your way onto a horse."

"Oh, I've ridden a few times." _On ponies. In a circle. At the fair. As a child. And it was horrid._

"Then you will have no trouble with her. Mount." Shaun gulped, moving up and grasping the mare's mane. For a moment, he was stuck on his stomach, unable to swing his other leg over. Then Badr gave a shove on his ass and he was up, Badr and Lex adjusting the stirrups to his legs. Lex swung up onto a mare of his own, giving Badr a salute.

"We'll wait for your word."

"One thing, though, mate." Shaun looked at Badr. "Owls? What is this, Hogwarts? Are we headed to an academy of witchery and wizardry?"

"You're heading to a swampland that smells of shit, Novice. If there are any wizards there, make sure they don't take off your head!" He gave Nasira a whack on the rump, the Brit nearly toppling off as she raced after her stablemates.

San Gimignano

In one of the monasteries that dotted the Tuscan countryside around San Gimignano, a man in red robes walked a patch of garden. As he passed between rows of herbs, some for the cook pot, some for other treatments, an arm caught his. He wheeled about. The young man who stood before him reminded him once more how absurd the tonsure looked on him, the curling fringe of hair that was left on his head almost falling in his eye. He stood a little shorter than the man in red, the bald dome of his scalp coming up to his nose.

"Forgive me, brother, but you asked to be informed should the need arise. There is news from Monteriggioni. The messenger awaits you inside."

**Chapter 2! I will try and write more as the school year winds down. :3 Thank you for not putting a tomahawk in my forehead for the long wait.**


	4. Venimus Chapter III

**Shaun belongs to Ubisoft, as does AC.**

Forli

Romagna, Italy

December, 1499

It had taken them three days and a good part of the afternoon to reach the swampy bog that the castle was built on. The roads were a morass that sucked at the horses' hooves, the bridges pockmarked with puddles. Even the castle was ringed by a moat that seemed superfluous with all the miniature lakes spotting the ground around it.

"Ah, Forli. Catarina Sforza's going to flash people from the top of that castle wall," Shaun mused to himself almost wistfully.

"I know," Amir said at the same time Lex said, "She's what? Who?"

"Fire crotch, Lex. Fire crotch," was all the Brit said, trotting after Amir as the Coal Tit threaded their way toward the docks that could just be seen through the haze of salt spray and mist that hung around the area. Shaking his head, the Sparrow trotted after them, earning himself a few swears from passersby when he had to cross the bridge.

When his mare's hooves touched the solid ground of the docks, he dismounted and let her move over to where his companions' mounts had moved to get herself something to eat from the pile of hay there. Lex looked up at Shaun. The Brit was cracking his back and groaning as Amir spoke with the captain of the ship being loaded in the harbor. The Englishman looked at his fellow time traveler and reached over, putting a hand on his back.

"You worried about Jameel, mate?"

"Yeah." Lex shifted a little away from his hand and walked after Amir up the plank onto the deck. Frowning, Shaun went up after him. The historian set to stumbling as he was shoved out of everyone's way, finally caught by the waiting arms of a rather good-looking fellow who winked at him in passing before attending to his duties with the rigging. Amir was already up in the crow's nest, squealing and spinning around and around on the mast like a carousel.

Lex leaned his arms against the rail of the ship, staring out into the dull, gray waters as the ship finally pushed off into the wind.

"It'll probably be five, eight hours, there abouts before we're in Venice." He glanced over at the man trying to make conversation with him and nodded, settling his chin on his arms. _Five to eight hours, huh?_ Lex shifted himself.

"That's time enough."

"Time enough to plan, yeah."

"And worry."

"And train a novice like you," Amir called down from his perch above their heads. The two men looked at him with matching looks of astonishment.

"Oh, hardee har har," came from Shaun, the one to recover the quickest. "Now where's the loo? I need to take a horrendous shit." _Time enough for that, too,_ Lex thought, a smile tugging at one of the corners of his lips as he watched the man go.

X x X

The air was cool when Shaun stepped out onto the deck that evening. The moon shone down full and bright, casting the masts and another long shadow across his face. Lifting his eyes, he found the one he sought up above him. The English Assassin was panting by the time he reached the spot just below where the Sparrow sat. He risked a glance down and ended up clutching tightly to the rigging, his bowels threatening to spill down, down, down, down those many feet to the wood below.

A hand appeared in his line of sight. Taking it, he allowed himself to be pulled up onto the seat Lex had made of the yard arm. Pushing up his glasses, Shaun wrapped an arm around the part of the mast that stuck up on his right side, rising to another arm above them. _Well, I'm up here. Now what the hell do I do?_

"Y'know, there's only one word of Arabic I've bothered to keep in my head." Lex glanced over at him, the taller man watching the stars a moment longer before meeting his eyes. "_Habibi._" Shaun's face darkened. "I learned it from a pop song."

"You even know what it means?"

"Of course, I do! I am able to use a search engine, y'know! What about you, did Jameel ever call you that?"

"He's called me it a lot." Lex studied the rope beneath his hands where it lay coiled around the arm. "What about you? Who do you want to call your _habib_?"

"I think maybe your brother," Shaun said after so long a pause Lex had wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

"Amir?"

"No! I'm not pedobear! The big brother!"

"Badr? You and Badr?"

"I can fantasize, can't I?"

"You have a fetish for scarred, blind Bedouin?"

"No, not a fetish, you arse. Can't I just think he's hot?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Shauny-kins."

"Shauny-kins?"

"Would you prefer Shauninator?"

"I'd prefer Sir Shaun Hastings the Fabulous, but I doubt Her Majesty will ever make a knight of me after the whole Wikileaks fiasco."

"You worked with Wikileaks."

"Don't sound like I said I crap Swiss sharp, kiddo. I was a rebel in my youth."

"You can't have a youth yet," Lex muttered. "You're not old enough." The man raised a brow.

"I'm nearly in my thirties and you say I'm not old enough. Hmph. Americans." The two fell silent for a time. How long, neither could say.

Then came, "Hey, Shaun. I just realized something."

"Hmm? Whazzat?"

"We're on a boat."

All the sailors were roused from their slumber as the off-key duet came down upon them from above, a chorus of Lonely Island's "I'm on a Boat."


	5. Venimus Chapter IV

**Thanks to Sam, Smeggi, and Tobi for their reviews and Nessa for the help with the new people. :3 Hope you guys're enjoying yourselves. And here's the next chapter for all of ya'll's enjoyment. You keep reading, audience, and I'll keep writing.**

**AC and its characters belong to Ubisoft.**

Venice, Italy

December, 1499

_GuyFawkes23's Daily Log  
Coming into port in Venice, Italy  
December, 1499_

I will now give you a brief description of a scintillating conversation I had about an hour ago with one of the crewmen.

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the Adriatic," I said to him.

"It's not a ship you row, cazzo_," he replied._

Clearly my scathing wit had become tiresome.

Shaun shut the journal and tucked it safely away in his bag. This he then kept a grip on after swinging it over both his shoulders and heading up into the air again. So, this was La Republica Serenissima, Venezia.

"Did various somethings die while we were at sea?" asked the Englishman, stumbling a bit as the ship bumped against the moorings and dropped anchor.

"Ah, canals." Lex was beside him, shaking his head and looking up at him with a wry sort of look. "Don't you just love 'em?" The men leaned against the rail as the little Coal Tit hopped onto it and chirped. The docks were crawling with guards, both Lion Cub and Crow. Fortunately, they did not pay the boat any heed, it being just one of many. Overhead, a murder of crows flew by.

Lex shuddered as the gangplank was lowered, the crew beginning to unload their cargo. Amir trotted down and waved them on. The Sparrow was borne down by the flow of men, left to stand and stare at the Cubs as his feet touched the solid stone of the dock, breathing quickening. One of the men turned toward him and stared back through the eye-holes for his helm.

"What're you looking at, boy? Never seen a man in armor?" The young man opened his mouth; no sound came out but a whoosh of air. "Stop gawking and keep moving, peasant, or I'll have your eyes for my soup!"

"Not recommended, _signore_." The Cub looked up, Lex stumbling as Shaun took hold of his arm. "One does not simply eat this boy's eyes. No telling where he's been. Not even I know. And would any of your friends want to look at you with that helm off should you catch some dreadful malady?"

"I'll have you catch some dreadful malady, poxy Roman! Be off and take your dumb Turk with you!" Shaun did as bidden, dragging the Sparrow away. Putting his arm around the younger man, the Brit set a course after Amir, who was hopping up and down and calling, "This way, this way, this way!"

The two followed him, winding their way through streets that were almost familiar to both men, if more choked with men in armor than either remembered. Lex kept his head lowered, gripping Shaun's waist with trembling fingers.

"Easy now, mate," the taller man whispered as they came to a square, an entire cluster of guards making their rounds before them. "Just make like the penguins and smile and nod." He nodded to the guards as they went by, smiling himself, the marching men paying him absolutely no mind. Once they were beyond the pair, they skittered after Amir, hurrying through the door of the building and shutting it behind them.

Inside, the air smelled of herbs and soaps and food somewhere. Lex was immediately struck with a vicious case of deja vu. _Of course you'd have deja vu. You spent three months of your life here._

Once their eyes adjusted to the dust and light spilling in from the back and front windows, the time travelers saw Amir was cheeping atop a man sprawled on the floor. His black hair was streaked with white, gray hair just made out by the pair, traced along the upper side of his lower jaw near his ears, beneath his chin, on his upper lip, a sharp contrast with his tan skin and the dark brown eye, the other a cloudy greenish color.

"You only came for the pancakes, didn't you?" asked the Spaniard, grinning.

"No, I came for Brother and the English one to eat the bacon and so they can see how you're stealing my hair," Amir chirped.

"Nico?" The apothecary turned her head, blinking at the Sparrow with her good left eye. "What the fuck happened to your eye?"

"Hippocrates called it glaucoma; Sams-ad-din called it migraine of the eye. I call it a pain in my ass." The apothecary stood with the Sparrow's help and clasped him tightly around the back. "Welcome back, my friend. I trust you came for the food and not my medicines."

"Food sounds great, but—"

"We're sort of on a mission," Shaun finished for him. Nico turned her head his way, frowning. "Well, don't look at me like I'm the five-hundred-pound elephant in the room."

"It would be nice if the five-hundred-pound elephant in my room would bend down so I could see his great wrinkly face clearly." The small woman folded her arms and raised both brows. Shaun sighed and crouched. "Ah, a white elephant. I've never heard of one with red hair, though."

"Comes with the territory. If you're going to stand out, stand our spectacularly."

"Better in these times to be hidden in plain sight, _amico_."

"So as not to harm any innocents?"

"So as not to compromise the Brotherhood. Of which I and my wife—" Nico stopped as the door was opened. A woman stood there in the door. She was dressed plainly in a white shirt with brown bodice and green skirt, her graying brown hair, touched with white in places, hanging down her back in a braid, peeking out from beneath the scarf that covered it at the back and the front. A babe was nestled in her arms, a basket on the one. She was only a little heavier than Lex remembered.

The woman thrust the babe into Amir's arms, approaching Nico, who the Englishman now saw was clad in shades of brown and white as well: a sandy-cream colored shirt beneath a brown vest, laced and belted shut, khaki colored pants fitted snugly into scuffed, worn brown leather boots. _We look severely overdressed._

"_Wer ist der Mann? Warum ist er hier?_"

"_Maria, Frau, lass mich—_"

"_Wir wissen nichts—_"

"_Maria, novia, querida, amor de mi vida, por favor, dejame decir que—_"

"_Nein, du bist nicht—_"

The two continued to cut one another off as Shaun and Lex looked over at the young woman who'd come in after Maria, shaking her head, arms folded over her ample chest. She looked like the Maria Lex remembered, but for the darker skin and finer boned features, cheek bones a little higher, eyes a little narrower. The woman looked at them in return, giving a smile that said, "Yes, this is normal."

Shaun looked down as Amir put the baby in his arms. The little swaddled thing looked back at him with large brown eyes and smiled a smile only a baby could, nuzzling against his chest. The man let out a less than dignified squeal as the little one began to root against his chest for something she was certain should be there, giving him a confused pet when nothing was produced.

"Cheep!" The squeal and cheep combination broke the two out of their moment. "Brother came for pancakes, Maria!" The gray-haired woman looked at the young, black-and-white-haired one, then at his brother.

"_Passero?_" He was dressed the same as he'd been when he'd left in plain Assassin robes of white with red here and there, the hood down.

"In the flesh." Lex smiled and stepped over to her as she went toward him, folding him in her arms and kissing his cheeks.

"_Ach_, what have they been feeding you? Worms?"

"Worse. Air."

"This will never do! But who's this with you?"

"I'm Shaun Hastings and I would like assistance! Assistance if you would be so kind," cried the Brit, trying to detach the baby from his gray sweater-vest. "I don't have what you want, you silly thing! Let go!"

"Forgive her, _messire_," the younger woman laughed. "She's not used to someone who doesn't have a teat that she can suckle." Taking the little one into her arms, she bared her breast and took a seat to let her at her meal. Shaun's face turned a shade darker than his hair before he looked away. Lex tilted his head as he looked from Maria to the woman and back again twice.

"Nadya?" The woman looked up as her name was said. She frowned at the young man. A small, breathless laugh escaped him. "Wow. The last time I saw you, you were tiny and crawling over my face and pulling my hair."

"Is this the Sparrow I've heard so much of?" she asked the two women, who nodded. She looked back at Lex. "Odd. I thought you'd be..."

"Taller?" Lex suggested.

She shook her head. "Older." The young man looked at the two old people who not so long ago for him had been young and racing to Monteriggioni beside him, a soundless sigh leaving him.

"Tis a long story on that account, _Herz_," said Maria. The older woman looked at the rich man standing before her, dressed in his grays, whites, and blacks. "You said your name was...?"

"Shaun. Shaun Hastings. And I feel very overdressed here. I mean, very overdressed."

"I think I can find you some clothing, _signore_." A young man stood in the doorway. He and the young woman beside him were wearing a pair of tunics—his cream and hers light blue—and brown pants and shoes that reached to their ankles. The girl's wrist glinted with a copper bracelet. The man, by contrast, had leather around both his own. A scarf covered the girl's hair, similar to her mother's, while the young man wore a bandana tied around his head. His features were dark, dark skin and dark hair, seeming to take after Nico where the girl looked more northern European like her German mother, lighter skinned and with pale rather than dark brown or black hair.

Between the girl and the other side of the door was a man as tall as Shaun, dressed much like Nico in browns and greens, sporting dark, curly hair and brown eyes with a dark goatee covering his chin. He smiled and went to his wife, wrapping his arms around them as they conversed quietly.

The Sparrow looked at the two others as they went to Nico and Maria, hugging them and kissing their cheeks.

"Alessio," Nico paused, looking at Shaun.

"Shaun," he supplied.

"Alessio, Nino, these are our other children. Ricardo and little Rawney."

"I'm not that little, Papa," the girl moaned before the apothecary's words registered with her. "Alessio?"

"_Il passero?_" Her brother grinned as he stepped forward, clasping the two men's arms. "_Benvenuti, amici._" Lex nodded, feeling like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. _Other children? When did this happen? Why are they so excited to see me?_

"_Grazie,_" he heard Shaun say as the man who'd gone to Nadya turned to Nico.

"What did you find out, Daniele?" asked the apothecary.

"The Templars are swarming the harbor, especially those Beaks in Black, as you call them. If the Red Owl is truly being sent to the port—"

"What did you say about the Red Owl?" Lex moved forward, finding his voice instantly. The man looked down at him snidely.

"What does it matter to you, _ragazzo_?" The next moment the man found a hidden blade nearly coring his Adam's apple.

"Alessio!" the apothecary and his wife shouted in one voice as Lex snarled, "The last person to talk to me like that didn't live very long. Now repeat what you said about Jameel, or so help me—" The Sparrow flailed as Shaun lifted him bodily, kicking at the air. "Let go of me you fucking Li—" Dropping him down, the Brit grasped him by the shirt and held him on his toes, choking off his words with a sharp, "Listen to me!"

Shaun took in a harsh breath and asked in a more even tone, "Do you remember Castlevania? The original Castlevania?" Lex nodded stiffly. "What did its levels make you do?"

"Think?"

"Really? Very good. Put that same strategy to use in this instance and keep your mouth shut and blades away while doing so!" He released him with a light push. "Please, forgive him. I think it's been a long day, personally, but that's not the point of the matter here, since that point is he's being a little twat. When are the Templars getting here with their cargo?"

Daniele rubbed his throat, staring at Lex before answering, "Three, four days. We will have time to prepare. _Signore_ da Vinci—"

A screech not unlike that of a pterodactyl shook the room and made the little girl scream as well.

"Shaun! Stop fangasming!" Amir shouted. "You're scaring the baby!" Turning to the two older Assassins, he said with an annoyed cheep, "Can I take them upstairs to the rooms?" Taking silence as assent, he took the two up the stairs to the nearest free room.

X x X

Shaun looked up as their door was opened. The younger girl, Rawney, stepped into the room, bearing a tray that she set at the foot of the bed atop the trunk there, avoiding setting it on Lex, who'd sprawled onto the bed as soon as they'd entered. Bread and dried sausage were the gifts she'd brought them.

"Mother asks if there is something you wish, _signores_." The Brit shook his head and bit a hunk from the bread and meat both. Shaun blinked, pushing his glasses up higher as he noticed her staring at his hair.

"No," he said, swallowing a mouthful of what tasted like salami, "my head's not on fire." When she looked at him disbelievingly, he added, "Go on, have a feel." Rawney smiled shyly and ruffled the stranger's spiky hair, which felt unexpectedly soft.

"Well, as strange as your fire-hair is to me, it must be stranger for you that we have two mothers."

"Two mothers?" Shaun tilted his head. The pieces clicked half a second later. _Oh. Right then._ "No, not really. Happens a lot where we come from."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah." And so the questions began.

X x X

"I can't believe this is the man our mothers spoke so highly of." Shaun stalled as he heard Nadya, leaning against the wall and peering around the corner into the room.

"Well, maybe your husband shouldn't have acted the boar and spoken to our guest so," Ricardo suggested, shooting a look at Daniele, who wrinkled his nose.

"Oh, you'd like it if the boy stuck his blade through my apple and roasted it over a spit, eh?"

"Possibly. Your voice grates sometimes. It's a surprise my sister even has anything to give you, your cries are so—" The man broke off with a grin at the smoldering glare the man's wife threw him. "But you know how they are as well, sweet sister, so no need for me to go on."

Nadya sighed. "In all the tales, he was a charming young man. Why do you think he broke our hospitality in such a way? Even if he did apologize the other day to Mother when she came with some broth for him, he can't really be—"

"At all preoccupied with the fact that his lover has been in the enemy's clutches for a year?" The apothecary's brood looked up at Shaun as he moved into the doorway. "Of course not. I'm sure you wouldn't be, right, Nadya, if your husband was held by a bunch of drug addicts who like to dress up as Plague doctors?"

"I wouldn't be!" Ricardo said, to which his sister responded by punching him in the arm. "Ow!"

"Even if," said Daniele, "he still has no right." Shaun pursed his lips, rubbing his chin, which had begun to show some healthy red stubble even then, and nodded.

"Of course, of course. I mean, naturally, no man would _ever_ forget himself if he learned that news and had been given the news a few days earlier that his mother had been murdered by our enemies. Y'know, I can't think of that having _any_ adverse affects on the psyche myself, so you _must_ have the right of it."

The others were silent as he finished, the barbs sinking deep. They looked at one another, at him, until finally Daniele spoke again.

"Forgive me, my friend. Forgive us, really. I...we..."

"Nope." Shaun held up his hands. "I'm not the one you're supposed to say this to." He walked off, leaving them to their decision.

Lex was sitting at the front table when Daniele found him a little while later, grinding up measures of herbs and putting them into pouches.

The man cleared his throat. The Sparrow looked up and turned to face him, getting to his feet.

"_Si?_" His voice was hoarse from disuse. The taller man sighed.

"Forgive me for the other day, _signore_. I didn't know..." He trailed off as the smaller man raised a hand and set it on his arm.

"_Fratello, non c'è niente da perdonare._"

X x X

Leonardo smiled as the group entered his shop, hugging the small boy who came in yelling "CHEEPCHEEPCHEEPCHEEP!" to his chest.

"It seems my little muse has returned and brought company!" The aging artist smiled, his hair having turned a silvery shade of its former blonde. "Daniele has told me of your plan. I believe I may know a way to assist you. My things are to be brought to the same harbor tomorrow for my voyage. Perhaps you might act as my helpers."

"How're we going to sneak in without being noticed?" Lex asked. "It's not like we don't stand out. At least, Shaun stands out with his hair."

"Hey!"

"Hmm." The man chuckled. "You won't stand out, _amico_. Not if you're in disguise."

Somewhere in the Adriatic  
Nearing Venice  
December, 1499

The black crates shifted in the hold as the boat creaked and groaned, the man inside swearing in his native tongue as his head jarred yet again on the corner. The curses had been loud and numerous for several hours. Head pounding, he yelled through the thin spaces between the slats that allowed him air, "I'll kill you all, I swear it! You're all dead! _Dead!_"

Pain followed as the crate was opened, light lancing into his eyes. He saw a beaked face for an instant before the Crow cracked him over the head with the butt of his weapon. The Assassin slumped against the wood as the lid was snapped shut.

**cazzo = prick**

**Wer ist der Mann? Warum ist er hier? = Who is this man? Why is he here?**

**Maria, Frau, lass mich— = Maria, wife, let me—**

**Wir wissen nichts— = We don't know—**

**Maria, novia, querida, amor de mi vida, por favor, dejame decir que— = Maria, wife, dear, love of my life, please, let me say that—**

**Nein, du bist nicht— = No, you are not—**

**Fratello, non c'è niente da perdonare. = Brother, there's nothing to forgive.**


	6. Venimus Chapter V

**Thanks to Tobi and Smeggi for the reviews and Nessa for helping me with the San Gimignano monks.**

**AC and its characters belong to Ubisoft.**

Venice, Italy  
December, 1499

"_Andiamo_, _amici_. We must be off." He nodded to the men, whom he'd dressed in clothes very similar to those worn by the apothecary's son Ricardo. It had taken a good deal of time to get Shaun to take the clothes with him standing still as stone, drool pouring out of his mouth as he gasped, "Da—Da—Da—Da—Da—_Signore_ da Vinci..."

Ricardo and Daniele had had to help Lex catch him before he could faint from the mere fact of the great polymath standing before him in the flesh."

"He's real," Shaun had babbled. "He's real, he's not a computer generated animatronic image from pixels and bytes. He's real, he's real..."

"What is this fool going on about?" Daniele muttered.

"Shaun, get a grip!" Lex snapped, shaking him. After Leonardo helped them raise Shaun up and Lex had clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent him pulling another pterodactyl-fanboy-scream, Shaun had finally wrestled his old clothes off and his new ones one, stuffing their old ones into his bag, which, Lex noticed then, had Bag of Holding stamped on the front.

Once clothed, the men exited the building and grabbed the crates that Leonardo had stacked against the outer wall, following the man down the street. It was slow going, the Brit hissing at every splinter gouging into his fingertips and muttering about the wonders of cardboard boxes, Ricardo reaching over every once in a while to steady Lex's load, which was taller than the Sparrow's head, or to keep him from stepping off into a canal.

Eventually, after one forced halt to allow some Cubs to speak with the polymath at the head of the line and to inspect the crates—Lex's trembling and heavy breathing amused them to no end, one of the Lion Cubs jesting, "Awwww, poor lamb. Too heavy for you, little boy? What's the matter, your big Spanish balls not dropped yet to get you some extra size and muscle?"—they reached the docks.

The two men from the future set down their burdens with the rest of Leonardo's belongings already piled in his spot on the dockyard, jaws dropping at the sight of so many crates and so many ships.

Crows flew by overhead, their intended purpose surely to keep a watch over the docks from the skies. This, however, had been thwarted by the local birds. The seagulls, heavier and bigger of beak, swarmed over the little clusters of murders that flew through their skies, pecking, pushing, screeching, white hemming in black and driving them to the docks. The crows screeched back, only these were sounds of pain. The archers and gunmen fired warning shots at the birds from the rooftops they strode upon, but couldn't do much else lest they hit a passing civilian.

_So even these Ravenwatch blokes have their moments of stupidity,_ thought Shaun as he watched the gulls picking apart the crows. The crows struggled to escape valiantly, to be sure, but there were too many gulls for them to win. Looking up from the mess being made on the docks, he spied what they were heading toward.

A black ship with black sails was what he saw, though he spied no name on her side. If it was written in black paint as well, he'd simply chalk it up to another moment of stupid.

From the ship came gunmen, the rifles slung across their backs, each carrying a crate to a growing pile of black crates on the dock before them. Each one looked exactly the same, large enough to hold a giant of a man, though not at all comfortably, each painted black, each bearing the same tight lid as the next.

_Which one is Jameel in?_ Lex wondered, eyes flicking from one to the next to the next. _There're so many. How're we going to find him in all that mess?_ The Sparrow gagged as he was jerked back by four hands behind barrels of fish and casks of olives to crouch beside his fellows. A black wagon had turned the corner to the docks, a small sort of wagon drawn by a mangy-looking donkey. The wagon stopped before the Crows' crates, the men accompanying it taking a crate each in hand and loading up.

Once full, the wagon rolled off. The Assassins looked at one another. Leonardo nodded to them, standing and moving to his pile of crates, striding after the wagon's path, the others following. Glancing over his pile of crates, the artist slapped a hand to his forehead.

"_Dio mio_, what an old fool I'm becoming! We must away; I've forgotten some of my most precious pieces!" They set off from the docks, trailing after the cart. The Crows glanced over their shoulders at them, beaks sometimes catching on their feathered cloaks, but said nothing. One hummed, which startled Lex almost enough to jump when he heard it, his hand moving toward his bow, but his companion put a hand on his and gave a quick shake. The hand lowered.

The wagon continued on into the square in front of Leonardo's home. Just when the Assassins wondered if it would keep lumbering on, the mule let out a loud bray and balked, favoring one leg. One of the Crows swore quite fluently, another surprise. Then a whistle sounded, a stone flew, and the Assassins were upon them.

The Crows didn't have time to draw their arrows, to prime their guns. Rawney stuck one in the throat with a rapier, Nico parrying a dagger and poking out one of the eyes of the men she was fighting. The Crow reeled back, clutching his face, before Ricardo and Daniele laid him low. A cry rang out from Leonardo as another of the Beaks in Black came up behind Nico, only to be felled by a cast iron skillet; Maria smashed the heavy weapon down atop his skull again for good measure, bone and brain squelching sickeningly.

Lex glanced to his left. Leonardo was dancing around the stabbing blade of a Crow, his rapier still sheathed. Backed up against his home's wall, he held up his hands and said, "Please, I am not a violent man! Signore, look at me! My bones are brittle, hair is silver, and teeth are gray!" This gave the Crow pause, head cocked to one side.

"I am a young man, however, red of hair, white of teeth, and full of calcium." The Crow whipped his head around, only to have it snapped backwards as the historian drove his fist into it. The Crow crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Lex jerked his own head around as he heard the humming again. The Crow was before him now, light gray eyes staring at him through the mask. Strangely, a cluster of white feathers adorned the enemy's chest.

The two stared at one another, the Crow's head moving from side to side, the Sparrow's tilting as well, though his feet remained rooted in place while the other drew inexorably closer. He blinked as a black gloved hand reached out, tapping his nose. He blinked, the staring contest ended. Then the white-chested Crow was gone, hopping over the roofs. _What the absolute fuck was that?_

He almost screamed as a hand touched his shoulder. Shaun's hand. The Brit looked at the crates and the two quickly set to work with the others. In a matter of moments, the apothecary's family and the time travelers uncovered the sight that made Lex's stomach knot.

The Red Owl was red as his title said as well as black and blue and purple and yellow. Cuts and bruises, both fading and fresh, half-healed lacerations that looked to be made by an axe, and a broken leg marred his appearance. Hauling him out of the crate, the Assassins carried him into the apothecary's shop. Maria and Nico set to work immediately once he was set on the table with help from Lex, who'd managed to bring himself out of his stunned daze enough to fall into medic mode.

Shaun winced as he heard the scraping and crackling of bone being shoved about, the gasps and grunts from the man who was coming around and passing out again even as the others worked on him. Once the more serious wounds had been treated enough to make travel possible, the Red Owl was clothed in a spare set of pants from Daniele, though on Jameel they didn't reach his ankles, the other leg ripped off to make way for his splint.

His entire chest and back were bound in bandages, the latter slathered in disinfecting herbs where his skin had been flayed.

Amir appeared at the doorway, panting.

"Everything's been set up, _Babbo_!" he said to Leonardo.

"_Bene._ Let's get him up." The bigger men lifted Jameel up between them and headed outside. Using the mule, they brought him to the building that housed the Thieves Guild in Venice. Hauling Jameel up from man to man, they reached the roof and scurried over to where the gliders awaited them. "Strap these onto your backs," Leonardo commanded, breathless. The conscious men slid the parachutes on, Lex helped by Amir to strap Jameel both to one of the glider's and Shaun's chest.

"Why do I have to buddy up with your boyfriend?" the Brit questioned.

"Drop him and I'll kill you," was all Lex replied as he slipped beneath his own glider.

"Would this be a bad time to say I've never done this before?" Shaun gasped as he neared the edge.

"Fly, fly, fly! Wheee!" Amir cried as he leaped from the tallest point of the building, the others falling behind him. Shaun steeled himself, though he couldn't suppress the whine that escaped through his gritted teeth as he fell and was caught by the wind, his stomach lurching forward and backward between his mouth and abdomen.

The heat of the baking tiles beneath them sent them high over the Serene Republic until a thermal caught their wings and tossed them higher, the men moving out toward the plains and hills in the distance.

The Assassins' stomachs lurched each time they drifted out of one thermal and into another. Sweat clung to the inside of Shaun's fingerless gloves. Lex's knuckles were white. Only Jameel and Amir seemed to be enjoying themselves; the one blissfully unaware of the situation, the other giggling and squealing. The wind grew rougher as they made their way toward the mountains, sometimes giving out altogether so that they plummeted, screaming, only to be buffeted up again.

Lex gritted his teeth, shifting his weight and turning the glider to avoid being blown into an outcrop of rock. Shaun was loosing a swear every five minutes, kicking his legs a little in the air as if this would help him stay aloft.

As they reached the halfway point in their journey, Lex marking it by the old bridge and tower he could spot through the rocks, the trouble began. Gunmen spotted them, a murder of black birds winging their way toward them. The shafts and bullets missed their feet by a good few feet, though the birds took to their air above their heads, circling.

Shaun hissed as one of the birds broke away—ravens, bigger than their crow cousins—and dove at his face.

"Ruddy buzzard!" He slammed his fist into its head, sending it tumbling downward. "My glasses are not yours!" He moved closer to Amir as Lex spiraled upward, calling back to them, "Fly hard!"

"What the sodding hell are you doing?" the Brit shouted. He soon got his answer. Turning the glider, Lex pointed the machine downward and dove at the black mass of feathers. Releasing his hold on the bar, he stabbed two of the birds with throwing knives and quickly grabbed the glider again, catching the breeze to fly back up to his companions.

The ravens flew after them as the gunmen faded into the distance, flapping around the gliders' canvas wings and pecking and ripping at them, trying to sink in their talons. One of the birds landed on the bar, landing a peck in at Jameel before Shaun could grab it by its face and toss it away. Roused by the sudden stab of pain, Jameel gave a shrill whistle that almost made Shaun let go of the bar to cover his ears.

The next moment a blur of large, white and brown feathers fell upon the crows. They were owls; Shaun saw when one came in close to snatch a crow from in front of him. About a dozen of them. The report of a gun sounded, Lex yelping as his leg was grazed. Down below, a group of black-clad riders was on their heels; they had flown too low to try and avoid the pecking menace in the sky.

Rising up again on the next thermal, Lex shouted over the wind, "Amir! Fire in the hole!" Amir unclipped two bombs from his belt, lit, and dropped them. He even whistled for added effect. A satisfying boom was heard from below as they moved on in a close V formation.

Amir took his turn to swear as he saw some of the archers coming on below them as they moved out into the plains, the shafts grazing the toes of his boots. He kicked one off that stubbornly clung by one of its serrated edges. Another archer loosed a shaft, catching the wing of Lex's glider before the horsemen were stopped by a wall of throwing knives and arrows, the weapons falling upon them from their flanks.

The men, clad in red robes, dispersed as quickly as they'd appeared, falling back into the trees that lined the roadside, only to reappear again. The last of the black horsemen fell, an arrow through him as the red men vanished once more.

San Gimignano, Italy  
December, 1499

The blind man stood as he heard the monks rushing by, following the sounds of their frantic voices. He joined them in the circle where they stood, listening to the cries of "Look, look!" and "Miraculous!" and "No, some devilry!" They all cried out and took a step back as one of the gliders crashed to the ground.

Shaun let loose a good few swears as he parachuted down to land in front of the monks. The holy men stared at him and he stared back in return; he opened his mouth to say hello, but was interrupted as Amir landed, screaming laughter, in a nearby haystack, his parachute unopened.

"Again! Again!" the boy cried.

Shaun unstrapped Jameel from himself and lowered him to the ground as Badr moved from the press of brown robed men and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Where is my brother?" Shaun forced him to duck with him, his pulse beating an erratic tattoo as their heads brushed together, as the glider shot over their heads. Lex managed to hop once in a vain attempt to slow down before he caught the lip of the wing on a fence post and was tossed ass over head until he came to rest halfway down the hill.

"Oh, bugger me!"

"Not right now," Badr snapped as he made his way to the fence with Asad's aid, the Englishman left to stammer and follow after him as Bourkan ran between Badr and Lex, barking madly.

"Shut up!" the two men snapped as they drew nearer to the younger man, who lay on his back, gasping and clutching his chest.

"I can't breef," the Sparrow wheezed. "Chest hurts...can't breef..." Shaun knelt beside him as Badr looked toward the two monks climbing down the hill to meet them.

One of the monks, a man with a round belly, panted out as he saw Lex gasping and wheezing on the ground, limbs jerking, "We will have to exorcise him! He has been taken hold of by some demon!"

"No!" shouted Badr, Shaun, Amir, and, surprisingly, the tallest monk of the three that had come running. He was huge, probably nearly as tall as Jameel, though the Red Owl wasn't around for Shaun to get a good height comparison and this was probably only an illusion as the Brit was kneeling and downhill from him, a shaggy growth of brown beard making up for the hair missing on his male-pattern-baldness tonsured head. The monk continued, "Ignacio, go to the garden and get me some foxglove!" The third monk, a thin, mousy one with curly black hair that looked utterly stupid to Shaun in its tonsured state, sped off as fast as his twiggy legs would carry him.

He came pelting back faster than Shaun would've ever believed possible as the balding monk pulled a wineskin off his belt. Ignacio handed him a small, wooden cup and some flowers. The man rubbed the cup down with the flowers, poured the wine in, and sat Lex up, making him drink. The Sparrow choked as the strong, burning liquid went down, but managed to keep it in his stomach.

The monk nodded to the smaller young man, rubbing his back. "How are you feeling?"

"Owww."

"I suspected as much." He stood, corked his wineskin after taking a swig, and belted it back to his side before he smacked the round bellied man upside the head. "What's the matter with you, _stronzo_? Exorcise him? _Buon Dio, vivo con un branco di idioti santi!_" Ignacio gulped at the elder monk's words and crossed himself.

"Forgive him, _signores_," the younger man whispered, Shaun guessing his age to be a little younger than himself, the other monk probably in his thirties or forties. "Uberto is not the most pious of men, God save him." He crossed himself again before reaching down to help him and Lex to their feet, nudging a jumping Bourkan away with his knee. Shaun helped Badr to stand, the blind man smirking as he felt the Brit's blistered palm.

"You've hurt yourself, novice. Doing what, I wonder? Gripping yourself a little too tightly?" The blind man chuckled, almost as if he could see how brightly the Englishman's face was burning. He reached up, patting him on the cheek. "Your silence speaks more than your words."

"And you read too much into things, you bloody nosey parker," Shaun snapped, pulling away his face away, trying to keep his breathing under control. "I could've been doing any other sort of thing!" The man was too close for his comfort, right up against him. Somehow his hand got back to his face, clenching his chin in place as his thumb grazed his stubbly cheek.

"You could have been, true, but you weren't, I suspect."

"You're off your bloody nut, you are." Badr laughed again.

"Say what you will of me, _signore_, but all this resistance must make you weary. Come." He took the Brit's hand again, following after Asad and Ignacio, who was letting Lex lean on him a little as they made their way into the monastery. "We may find some safety and peace in this place they call a sanctuary."

"What do you call it?"

"With these closed spaces all around me? A prison. Give me a tent big enough to fit my horse in, land to survive in, open skies, and I will be more than happy." Shaun frowned at the words.

"Wot; you don't have someone to share your bed with on that list? I'm surprised."

"I'm surprised as well. Was that an offer you've just made to me? And in one of your holy places no less." Badr laughed again, the sound echoing off the walls as he nudged Shaun into one of the rooms the monks had prepared for their guests.

**Andiamo, amici. = Come, friends.**

**Dio mio = my God**

**Babbo = Daddy**

**Bene. = Good.**

**Stronzo = Asshole**

**Buon Dio, vivo con un branco di idioti santi! = Good God, I live with a pack of holy idiots!**

**Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and I hope to have the next few done this week as well. :3 As always, you keep reading, I'll keep writing.**


	7. Venimus Chapter VI

**Thanks to Tobi for the review of last chapter. ^^ And thanks for more help from Nessa in getting this chapter done.**

**AC and its characters © Ubisoft**

San Gimignano, Italy  
December 31, 1499

The Red Owl dreamed. They were fuzzy at first, heat-haze images. Then the images began to take solid form. He dreamed of his brother's death, of finding Kadin finally at ease, his guard down. Gore and blood had stained the room. He had carved his brother the way a butcher carved beef, sheering bone and organs and meat; he decorated the room with the bits and gave the walls a fresh coating of red before leaving.

He dreamed of killing, killing them all, his brother's spawn. Down through the line. Then him. Him. Him with the lion's maw. The words whispered in his ear...

_Traps. All traps. Venice and its stinking canals, all made of traps..._ The Vultures turning on him, the Lion's axe ramming his stomach... _It was a trap..._ The screams...

His eyes opened groggily. He frowned as he looked at the ceiling, the shadows shaped by the faint light of dawn. Mercifully, no bells tolled for morning prayers. _This room... How am I here again?_ Sluggishly, head feeling like his skull and neck had turned to rock, he took in his surroundings. He rested upon his back on a straw mattress, a small pillow beneath his head and a woolen blanket drawn up over him. He knew the room, having spent many a night in it. _I flew here. I flew. A man was with me, a stranger and two others._

His eyes fell then upon the one beside him, tanned fingers curled atop his bandaged chest, the Sparrow's head resting upon his shoulder. The Owl's icy eyes lingered upon his lover's face. _My little bird..._ Shuddering, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to the smaller male's brow, fingers combing his wind-whipped hair into order, drinking in his scent as he pressed his face into the tousled brown mess.

Footsteps halted, made him bolt upright. _Monster!_ He froze, the straw pillow in hand, a poor weapon. Two of the brown-robed brothers stared at him as if he was mad, one seeming hard-pressed to suppress his laughter. He knew then how absurd he must look with his face fixed in a raging snarl; he lowered the pillow.

Two small platters of food were left on a table barely large enough to hold them, one with a helping of meat and cheese, the other bread and a crock of honey. A jug of ale rested beside them. At least the brothers had had the courtesy to move the table to the bedside. Adrenaline gone, his back screamed in protest as he propped himself against the wall.

Jameel nibbled at the food, forced a swallow of ale, and ate a little more until he felt he would be sick. Taking another quaff of the drink, his throat burning, he set the jug down and rested his head against the wall, eyes shut. Taking in a long breath, he reached down, tracing the Sparrow's cheek with two fingers, cheek and jaw both, moving them over his lips. _He has a little fuzz on his jaw now and his lips are chapped._

Opening his eyes, he rested his hand on Lex's shoulder, shaking it gently. He groaned a protest even as a hand went to his eyes to knuckle away the sleep that cling to them. Lex blinked up at him, the look as owlish as the birds that had come to their aid in the mountains. The Red Owl said nothing when their eyes met, the shadow of a smile on his pale lips as he pressed a honey-coated heel of bread to his Sparrow's lips and watched him bite down.

In the other room, Badr had finished his prayers and had eaten a bit of the food left him by the monks, his dogs slurping noisily as they ate from their own bowls. Bourkan finished his bowl and moved over to Asad's. The elder dog gave the younger a growl and a shove.

"_Bas,_" the horseman hissed to them and the dogs quieted. He turned his head toward Shaun. He had felt out the man's position before; he lay on his stomach, face toward him, snoring lustily. One arm dangled over the bed—Bourkan had managed to lick his hand wet from wrist to fingertips, glove and all, but when it came into his head to try and take the novice's eyeglasses, most likely to bury somewhere in the monastery yard, Badr snatched them up and held them to his chest as if cradling an injured fledgling.

Reaching over, he found Shaun's cheek and smacked it lightly a few times. Groaning, the Englishman swatted at his hand, only to earn his wrist being caught in a vice grip. Shaun opened his eyes, blinked, and squinted.

"I was having a nice dream, wanker. Where are my specs?"

"You should be thanking me, Novice."

"Yeah, about that, thanks, but my name is Shaun and why should I thank you?" Shaun squeezed his eyes shut as the arms of his glasses threatened to poke both of them out. Shifting them, Badr slid the glasses up onto his face.

"Bourkan would have left you blind as I am otherwise, Novice."

"Y'know, I didn't come out squalling and bloody for my mother to look at me and name me Novice."

"I will call you Novice as much as I like, Novice's Novice."

"Here's a new trick for ya, mate. Take your head and cram it up your—"

"What were you dreaming of?" Shaun tilted his head to one side. "In your sleep, you spoke. Who were you calling _habibi_?" The Brit held his peace. Badr's lips curled into a smirk.

Shaking his head and straightening his clothes, Shaun pulled on his boots and went to the room Jameel and Lex had been given the night before. Amir had reached it before him, the boy cheeping happily as an owl hooted at Shaun from his hair. Lex reached up, handing it a piece of meat. The bird gobbled it down and hooted its thanks.

The historian cringed as the bird leaned its head out, its neck longer than he ever would've suspected, and preened Jameel's hair, hooting a final time.

"Safety and peace," he heard Badr say behind him. Turning, Shaun came face to face—well, face to cowl—with two of the red clad men from the day before. The two of them stood before him, seeming to stare, though it was hard to say with the peaked hoods masking their eyes. "Greet them, Novice." Badr leaned in the doorway with his dogs, arms folded.

"Erm..." Tongue-tied for a moment, Shaun left it to untie itself with his usual scathing humor, "Welcome to Le Chateau Assassin, chaps. Please, wipe your feet before you come in and don't despair of that owl never shitting on my friend's heads. It'll happen eventually." The two men continued to stand in front of him in silence. _Everyone's a critic._ He took his seat on the only free chair in the room and shut up.

Lex looked at the two men. They were of a height and dressed in the same burgundy red robes, their hoods masking all but their lips and noses. The one, however, had a sword slung on his hip. The scabbard was long and curved—doubtless, the blade within curved in a similar way—and the hilt snapped forward in a ninety degree hook at the pommel, which consisted of rounded black iron. Both were outfitted with full quivers and bows.

The swordsman stepped forward and spoke, "We thank you for getting our leader out of the hands of the Ravens."

The bowman added, "We have prepared your horses for departure." He looked over his shoulder at Badr. "Yours is still a raging bitch. She nearly took my hand off when we hitched our mounts."

"That is why you're still the novice son of a novice's novice who cannot learn a simple fact the first time you're told. Ya-Bint-al-Hawah is a war horse, unlike that little gelding of yours."

The bowman opened his mouth to respond and snapped it shut when the swordsman held up a hand.

"We will escort you to the Villa Auditore. We await your pleasure." Turning on his heel, he strode out with the other man. Badr followed them.

"Are you well enough to ride?" Amir asked the Red Owl once to the two men were gone. Jameel looked at him for a long, silent moment before turning his eyes to Shaun and gesturing him over. Rising, he leaned his weight onto the Brit, put his free hand on Lex's shoulder, and was helped to hop down through the short corridor and down the steps to where the horses stood.

Not only were the two red riders standing there with Badr already astride Fajera, but Ignacio and Uberto were there as well. The big monk had a war hammer strapped to his back and was tightening the cinch on one of the monastery mounts.

"You needn't come with me," he was saying to Ignacio as he went to Shaun's side and helped him get Jameel onto the back of one of Badr's horses.

"Is this Nasira?" Shaun asked, looking at Badr, who nodded. The historian lifted a brow, but clambered onto the mare's back, the blind Assassin handing him over his reins.

"Someone has to speak the Hail Marys for your trespasses and since I haven't heard you yourself doing so, I will say them for you, amico," the younger monk responded with a grunt, slipping a wooden staff through a set of straps on the back of his saddle near the bags.

"Shaun," Lex said, "I think we might've found an Italian Shaolin monastery by mistake." His fellow time traveler looked at the monks and shrugged, the balding one taking a lead at their head as Amir came trotting up on a large, fluffy-legged black and white cart horse with enough of a mane and tail to make an English sheepdog jealous of the fluff.

"Can that bloody horse even see where it's going?" blurted the Englishman. Amir giggled, grinned, cheeped, and nodded, bouncing in the saddle. With everyone mounted, the group set off, the monks at rear and head, the red riders, whom Jameel informed them were titled Owlets, sometimes flanking, sometimes scouting ahead and behind and around them.

The going was slow with frequent stops for the Red Owl to rest himself for a few minutes before they moved on again. When all their stomachs began to ache, the group made a stop atop a rise for lunch, the Owlets taking their lunch with their bows strung and resting beside them on the ground. Amir took the time to snatch a nap on his fluffy horse's back while the rest of them finished eating, the black-and-white-haired Coal Tit almost blending into the black-and-white-haired horse perfectly.

By the time Shaun's watch read two in the afternoon, the group could see the walls of the village rising up before them; all of them saddle sore and ready to dismount.

Jameel took a long look around, smirking despite himself. Ezio had become a very rich man, it seemed. The last time he had been to the village, two men would've had trouble walking abreast down a street. Now the roads were wide enough to ride their horses through, the shops bustling, the walls manned.

The Red Owl reined up sharply, eyes fixed on one man atop the walls. His robes hung in tatters on his bony frame, the leather armor at his chest rotting even as he watched, falling to pieces in front of skeletal feet.

"Jameel." He nearly leaped from the horse's back. Lex lowered his hand from his shoulder. "What're you looking at?" The tall man shook his head.

"Shadows of the past, nothing more." They moved on. The stairs proved no obstacle either, the horses striding up either set of them in single file, saving the men the difficulty of negotiating Jameel up the steps while hobbling on leg. Aided in his dismount by Uberto and Shaun, Badr was quick to gather the horses and, with a curt nod, lead them away, a few stable hands rushing from the gates to meet him and his hounds, Bourkan tackling one of the unfortunate men clean from his feet as he began to lap all over his face.

Inside the Villa, they found Maria Auditore awaiting them.

Amir dashed forward to meet her, nearly bowling the woman over as he cried, "Mama! Mama! Look, I brought _ahki_ and Jamtwist and more people and I rode my fluffy horse all the way here!"

"Very good. You must be tired now, though. Go and rest."

Amir cheeped and shook his head, crying, "Nuh-uh! I'm going to go take care of my coal tits!" With that, the boy immortal was gone. The woman lifted her eyes toward the rest of the group. Stepping forward, she rested a hand lightly on Jameel's shoulder.

"You know you are always welcome here, _signore_."

"As you know, I'm always grateful. Do you mind if the little bird roosts here as well with his northern harrier?"

"Oh, a Harrier am I now?" Shaun muttered, looking toward the woman. He bowed his head. "Madonna Auditore."

"I am not so old as to require that title yet," said Maria, looking him over slowly. Shaun was as travel-stained and worn as the rest of them, his hair, dampened with sweat and grown longer since their stay in the past began, hung a little in his eyes. "Take whatever you need—weaponry, clothing—and feel free to make use of that _doccia_ Mario installed at your behest."

"Indoor plumbing!" Amir called from somewhere outside. "It's going to be a big, big hit! Invest now, invest!" Shaking her head, the woman gave them a nod and departed, leaving them to do as they would.

The monks departed for the village church, the Owlets and time travelers shown upstairs by servants to the guest rooms. Once their belongings had been placed in the rooms, they met at the head of the stairs.

"What do you blokes plan to do now?" asked Lex.

"My brother plans to do nothing but sharpen his sword. And not the proper sword at that." The comment earned the bowman a hard elbow to the ribs. "What of you?"

"I need a shower too." The Sparrow nodded to the others, then frowned. "You seen Shaun?"

"The novice may have had the same idea as you. Who's to say?" The swordsman brushed past him and down the stairs, the bowman following behind.

Shaun had marched after the Red Owl, intent on having a word with him; a maid was kind enough to guide him to the shower room. Now he stood frozen in the threshold, staring at Jameel. A very naked Jameel. The Brit's mouth fell open, drool trickling out of it as he looked the man up and down twice.

A smirk was stamped on the Owl's face as he watched Shaun gawking at him.

"Well, now that you know what I completely look like, I recommend wiping your mouth and regaining your composure. I'm sure you have something important to say."

Shaun had intended to ask something important, but whatever it was was gone now. He groped for him, but could only manage a stupid, "How big is Lex?"

"You haven't asked him yet, little Harrier?" _If he plans to do something with the information, I'll show him that just because my talons are clipped doesn't mean I can't break his jaw._ Shaun folded his arms, finally able to tear his eyes away from Jameel's hips.

"Oh, yes, of course, Jameel. That's excellent lunch time conversation. Nice weather we're having. Just splendid. Going to train later? Oh, by the way, Lex, just how massive is your dick, considering your boyfriend's puts grown men to shame? And what do you mean by little?"

"Obviously, your answer says 'No, I haven't.' If you were smart, you would ask him when no one else was around and give him a reason why you asked. He would either answer you or punch your face in. Or both. It may simply be a case of whichever comes first." His own arms folded, making a mockery of Shaun's stance. "Little as in novice, Novice." Shaun frowned deeply as Jameel used Badr's words on him. "You haven't sharpened your talons or grown your feathers yet, fledgling. After those are in place, the baby bird must learn to fly and fight. From what I've seen, you can't do either well yet. Now will you leave me to my shower, or are you going to stand there all day and become soaked in more than one way while staring at my cock?"

Shaun turned on his heel and fled, shouldering roughly passed Lex as the smaller man went towards the room. Rubbing his shoulder, the Sparrow stared after him before continuing on toward the doorway Shaun had vacated.

"Not gonna lie, that looks awesome." Jameel looked up at him as he reached for the lever. Lex chewed at his lip. "Can I join?" Jameel nodded, allowing his Sparrow to strip down before turning on the water. It wasn't a hard system, really, once they'd had all the mechanisms in place and Amir had approved of them, a system of pumps and a small stove to heat the water with.

Jameel made room beneath the warm spray for Lex after the younger man had shut the door. He kept half an eye on it. If Shaun decided to enter again with some quip or if anyone else decided to enter and question what they saw, the result would be a good lashing.

"So," he said, after they had stood long enough for their bodies to be coated with water, "Shaun came here to say something and ended up staring at me and making comments of a rather phallic and erect nature. How are you this afternoon?" He reached up and scrubbed at his hair, pushing it back from his eyes. It had grown longer since his captivity began, hanging down to his shoulders and into his eyes, long enough to where he could tuck his bangs behind his ears.

"Sore." He could see as much; Lex was quivering. His own lower back ached furiously from the long ride, even with the stops they'd been forced to make on his account. Stepping out of the spray to allow Lex to have the full force of the warm water on his body, he took up a small jar from a small shelf and shook it, dumping some of his contents into his hair. Scrubbing, they swapped places again. "You managed to get yourself out of your bandages, I see."

"They were hastily applied." Shaking his damp black hair from his eyes again, he poured some onto his Sparrow's head and rubbed it in. "That's not like you at all." His fingers slipped through the tangled waves and curls, pulling out knots. One came away as a dusty, matted clump that had somehow refused to be blown away by the wind. He made a face and shook it off his hand.

"We were kind of in a hurry. Crows and all." Lex reached over to the shelf and took up a cake of soap, holding it out to him. Jameel took it and scrubbed himself down the front. "Shaun's been having sort of a bad week."

"Sounds like he needs someone to have some fun with." Jameel grunted as he automatically reached to wash his back, pain raking his flayed flesh. Lex took the soap and turned him, scrubbing him down gently. The skin was raw, but it was returning all the same in healthy, pale pink patches. Allowing the water to sluice the soap away, he started on his own body, sniffing at the soap. The scent of honey, oats, and herbs came to him, probably one of the bars from the Valez family. Absently, he wondered if they'd gotten out of Venice, or if the apothecary and his brood had been taken by the enemy as Jameel had. "Your back's scratched, _'usfur_."

"I had a rough landing on my first flight. Ran into a fence and the ground. No biggie." The crash that was no biggie had left long, shallow scratches running the length of his back. They were painful to look upon and just a little too red for Jameel's liking. Taking the soap, he ran it over them gently as he was able until his Sparrow's small back was lathered completely. Setting the soap aside, he worked it in with his hands, passing them low and high, kneading at the muscle beneath.

"Your neck is full of knots, little bird." A groan was his only answer, a flinch here and there. His hands slipped low as he dared, brushing over his ass. A flinch, a gasp, but no protests. They moved over his hips, slid along his belly, up to his chest. For a brief instant, he felt his lover's heart beating double-time beneath his fingers. Then Lex pulled away, whipped around to face him, his body tensed as if to attack, eyes wide. He swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed once more, the silence a yawning gulf between them. Jameel leaned against the slick wall and closed his eyes for a moment; his broken leg ached furiously, though he had favored it as much as he was able with the slick floor beneath his feet.

Lex was the one to break the silence, the tension snapping like an overdrawn bowstring, "What're you thinking about now?" Jameel opened his eyes, looking down at him. "Do you want to talk about it? Whatever's bothering you?" The blue eyes continued to stare at him, not so much a snowfall in their half-lidded state as the world when the snow had already fallen, languid and heavy.

"The water's cold and there's still daylight. We should find something to do." Jameel turned the lever, shutting off the stream. The Sparrow knelt beside his Owl, applying fresh disinfectants and bandages to his wounds, replacing the splint on his leg. He made a mental note to put a cast on it later once he found some plaster. _Maybe I can find some from that little art shop in the village._

"I'll make you some crutches once I've found the plaster for your cast." The two stopped, looking at one another. Slowly, Jameel began to laugh.

"Has your whittling improved since Masyaf?"

"No," Lex chuckled, "I haven't taken a shop class yet." The Assassins smiled at each other before Jameel ruffled Lex's hair and stood, using the wall as a support, hopping down to Mario's study to speak with Maria. Lex watched him disappear around the corner before heading out to the training yard. He stalled, looking at the two men in red flanking the entrance, one standing soldier stiff, the other leaned back, picking his teeth with a throwing knife. _That's can't be good for the gums._ "Are you guys staying here too?"

"For now." It was the swordsman who answered. "We are here to assist in any way we can." Lex nodded. "You seem unconvinced."

"Just kind of hard to judge the word of a man whose eyes I can't see. For all I know you could be rolling them or half asleep."

"True." He reached up and pushed back his hood. It was a young face, he was surprised to find, the man only a year or two older than him, three at most, his black hair cut in a way that reminded him of the one-armed Dai Malik's. Hazel eyes looked down at him from a ravaged face. Four ragged scars crossed his face. The first had torn from hairline to temple, the second from hairline to jawline, shearing across his nose and just missing his eye. The third cut across his lips to his chin, the fourth the smallest, going across his right cheek from cheekbone to jaw. Lex tilted his head, looking at the scars, brows furrowed.

"They look like claw marks."

"The Metal Lion's claws." The swordsman shifted his stance so one hand rested on the pommel of his sword. "Do you have any plans for him?"

"Him who?"

"Our master, of course," said the bowman, earning a snap from the swordsman in a tongue Lex couldn't understand. Although... _That sounds familiar._

"The Lion. Do you have any plans for him?"

"Why?" The man simply looked at him, eyes moving up and down. Lex blinked, realizing then that the scarred man had moved in so they were inches apart.

"You would do well to take a lesson from my face if you ever should have any ideas in your head about him. He is not a normal man, but a demon in armor. He would eat a little fellow like you alive." The Sparrow shuddered. "You are Skandar, yes?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Our master mentioned you a few times."

"Oho, yes, he did," the bowman agreed, only to earn another snap from the man with the scars. He held up his hands, grinning. "Well, we have heard of your skill with medicines. Around the Underground, you're _al Hakim_."

"_Al Hakim?_ Seriously? I'm not even through with medical school yet."

"Regardless, here you are. Skandar al Hakim in the flesh."

"Well, you know my name. What're you guys' names?"

"We're obliged not to give those out," said the swordsman at the same time the bowman said, "I'm Majid."

"Idiot!"

"What? He asked. I'm obliged by my sense of politeness to give him my name. It's only proper, brother."

"I'll reach down your throat and show you how to properly knit a sweater with your guts if you don't learn in the next minute how to hold your tongue." Majid smiled, popped his lips, and shut his mouth. He grinned and popped in a few more times until the scarred man shouted, "_Stop that!_"

"Well, then, uh...Scars," Lex said, for lack of a better nickname, "I'll stop bothering you guys now. Wanted to see if I could find some plaster for your master. The Red Owl doesn't seem to understand the concept of a simple fracture of the tibia."

"No, sometimes our master's just stupid." Scars gave Majid a glare then that would've made Jameel proud. Shaking his head, Lex smiled a little and headed down into the streets. Finding the little area of shops, which had really expanded into quite a large area of shops taking up about a block of space, he stopped at both the art and the apothecary shops to ask about plaster.

The art dealer haggled with him over the price of plaster, raising it higher until he mentioned Badr. Then it was _signores_ and questions of delivery time up to the villa. It was then that Lex noticed the frenzy of activity around him.

Moving through the gate while avoiding being run over by a wagon full of animals, the Sparrow went to where Badr and Shaun stood by the stables. The conversation stalled as he came near, Bourkan springing up onto his shoulders to lick at his face as Amir squealed from the top of the wall, "They're coming! They're coming!"

"Who's coming?" Lex managed once he'd forced the wriggling dog down. Looking down the road, he got his answer. Uberto and Ignacio were moving up the road and Nico, Maria, and their children were with them. "Maria! You're on a horse!"

"Yes, a New Year's Eve miracle," Nico joked as she dismounted. The German woman gave her husband a sour stare before sliding down herself and rubbing her back.

"Really? It's New Year's already?"

"Yes, _Spaetzlein_," she said, "and we've more news for you than just the date. Some old friends are planning to pay Monteriggioni a visit."

**Al Hakim = the sage/the doctor**

**Thanks for reading all of you lot. I'll try and have another chapter up this weekend to finish off Venimus. Yes, Venimus is coming to an end. Then we'll all see what happens in Vidimus! (Besides bad plays on words!)**


	8. Venimus Chapter VII

**Thanks to G, aka Liz, and Tobi for reviewing. Also, thanks, Mahdhin ibn Hush, for correcting my spelling of the Muslim greeting and reply. I hope the typo doesn't hamper your enjoyment of the rest of the story and feel free to correct anymore typos you see in my Arabic; I'll go back and correct them as I'm able. The same goes for everyone else whose native tongues I just might accidentally butcher. Please, please, correct me if I'm wrong.**

Monteriggioni, Italy  
December 31, 1499

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Shaun wrote in his daily log of the comings and goings of various people around the Villa, who were planning a two day long festival, combining the celebration of the New Year tonight with Ezio's return the first day of 1500.

Lex sat in conversation with the Valzes until he was hoarse and forced to eat something. The family had set out shortly after their friends, though they had been hindered by the increased patrols of Cubs and Crows and nearly caught once before they reached the docks and their ship. The rest of the way, Badr's horses had provided easy travel.

"You may wish to stay outside a little longer today, _Spaetzlein_," the Brit heard Maria say. "Caterina Sforza is coming to wait for Ezio."

"_The_ Caterina Sforza?" asked the taller man, poking his head out of Mario's study where he'd borrowed the use of his large desk. The other Assassins were seated on the grass, Lex directly on it, Maria and Nico on chairs.

"_Hay una otra puta pelirroja sin alma se llama Caterina Sforza?_" Nico asked, looking at him sideways. "Her gates were locked to us when we arrived there to seek a little rest. We had to ride through the mountains in the night to reach San Gimignano."

"_Lo siento,_" the Brit managed. The apothecary shrugged and stood, moving to the room she shared with her wife.

Lex set off to stroll the village with the other man, watching the preparations for the festivities. Streamers, flowers, torches, everything had been put into this endeavor. _Will there be fireworks too?_ He glanced up at the cannons mounted along the walls, jumping as Amir went zipping by toward the Villa, attended by his little flock of coal tits, crying, "_Sono qui! Sono qui! I Romani sono qui!_"

"Well, that was fast," the Sparrow murmured. He jumped as a hand was laid on his shoulder, looking up at the man standing there.

"_Figlio, nascondere tua moglie, i figlie e argento. Non hai sentito? Gli zingari stanno arrivando._"

"_Signore, se hanno preso le tue cose per errore, li avevano danno subito._"

"_Come si fa a saperlo?_"

"_Ho visto i tuoi ogetti di valore. Non sono ladri vale la pena._" He moved away before the man could think of a comeback. Making his way to the rooftops, he found Majid and Scars. "_Salute._"

"_Salve,_" the brothers greeted. Scars continued with, "Do you have a plan?"

"Recruitment," Lex said, gasping as one of the tiles broke off underfoot. The swordsman's arm snapped out, grasping his hand as Majid took him by the tunic and pulled him up to stand beside them near the wall. The Sparrow panted as he looked at where the tile had slid down to the edge of the roof. "Thanks."

"Who do you plan to recruit and how?" Scars barreled on. Majid rolled his eyes.

"What my brother means to say is 'You're welcome' and 'How can we help?'"

"Stand guard? Make sure Shaun doesn't say anything racist?" The Sparrow shrugged, looking up at the Owlets. "Otherwise, all I can tell you is _laissez le bon temps roulle_." They looked at him confusedly, then at each other. He translated it to Italian as well as he could, "_Cominiciamo a divertici volte._"

"Now, Brother," Majid said and turned to Scars, "good times are known as fun. Fun is when—"

"Al Hakim stated we should stand guard, not go whoring," the scarred man snarled. "Even if our master's benefactor thought it wise to set up a brothel in his village."

"I know! And there's such a distinct lack of beautiful men in that brothel!" The Owlets were soon off across the roofs, Majid cackling as he wound his way toward the brothel, Scars screaming what seemed like death threats in that language Lex couldn't understand. Though now the words tickled at the edges of his memory more than ever. _Where the hell do I know them from? God, this is frustrating!_

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, the moon rising as torches flared to life all about the city. A dance was going on in the streets before the villa and the little village church. The Romani had made their camp outside the walls and threaded their way inside the walls. The Sparrow had watched with the newly christened Harrier, Badr the first to go over to one of the men who was corralling some horses, no doubt to speak of breeding.

Below them, Uberto and Ignacio stood with the apothecary couple, who watched their children spinning about on the dancing grounds in front of the church. When asked, Shaun informed him, "It's the estampie, that dance." The Assassins watched until the dancers bowed, then dropped down to their fellows and walked outside the walls to the camp.

A young man was the first to spot them, snapping off in his own tongue until Nico said, "_Sastimos_, Fonso. We missed you too."

"Nico? Maria?" The man, who couldn't have been more than seventeen, grinned. "Is Rawney with you?"

"Last we saw she was dancing inside the walls. Go on and see her if you want." Maria gestured toward the camp. "Our friends have a proposition for your brother." Lex and Shaun exchanged looks, but followed where Fonso led. Another man stopped them on their way. He was tall as Uberto—six feet and some inches, the men from the future had found the monk to be—and clapped the apothecary on the back so hard she almost ate a mouthful of turf.

"Sorry, Nico," the man boomed, his voice a deep rumble. Helping her husband up, Maria smiled and said, "You must gauge your strength, Mihai. Otherwise you might end up doctoring my poor husband."

"Oh, no one wants that, Signora Valez, especially me. I can't even see the hole to thread the needle!"

"Mihai, leave these poor folk alone!" Fonso groused, doffing his caramel colored flat cap and giving his brother a light whack on the arm. "Our friends are all inside!" The two hurried off, leaving the Assassins to come to the edge of the campfire. There a man was finishing a tune on a violin, surrounded by a ring of listeners and dancers alike. He was dressed in a pair of brown pants tucked into his knee-high leather boots, a loose-sleeved off-white shirt worn beneath a black vest done up with white embroidery. A fair growth of dark stubble covered his jaw, the workings of a good mustache already in place above his upper lip. Opening his eyes, he grinned and passed his violin to a young boy who sat beside him, spreading his arms and laughing.

"Twice in one day! Do you miss my company so, or is the empty Auditore house really so dull? Welcome, my friends, please, be welcome!" He clasped Nico tightly to his chest, thumping the apothecary on the back. The man and Maria exchanged kisses on each cheek before embracing as well. He clasped hands with Uberto and Ignacio, bending to kiss the monk's cheeks. "Inigo." He winked at the mousy little man, chuckling when the young monk turned red from his neck to the cleared patch of scalp that formed his tonsure.

When he turned to face Shaun and Lex, he folded his arms and lifted a brow, head cocked to one side. "And who might you be?"

"Friends, one old and one new." This was from Maria from where she had taken a seat.

"Shaun Hastings," said the Harrier, stretching out his hand. "I'm a historian." The man clasped his hand, only to allow his other brow to rise as the Englishman's other hand dropped back to where his small money pouch hung on his hip. "Sorry." Shaun managed a stiff sort of smile. "Nervous."

"No need to be so, my friend. Perhaps your histories don't note this, but our purse-cutting ways do not extend to guests seated around our fire, eating our food." Shaun's skin had turned milk white, Lex saw, as he edged over to find a seat between Uberto and Ignacio.

"_Sastimos,_" Lex ventured when it was his turn to speak. The man grinned and ruffled up his hair, drawing him close and kissing his cheeks.

"Your accent is terrible, my friend. But how you're grown since the last time I've seen you!" The man laughed. "Then you came up to my shoulder and now to my chest! _Dordi!_ Soon enough I'll be able to fit you into a pouch and carry you on my belt." Lex blinked and tilted his head back, studying the man's face. "Recognize me yet, _chavo_?"

The Sparrow saw him then. Stripping away the stubble, the mustache, shrinking him in his mind's eye, he saw him. His eyes widened.

"Luca?" The man put an arm around his shoulders and drew him to the fire. The others were already tucking into bowls of stew. Handed one himself, he was seated and bid to eat. He did so ravenously, his appetite returned after all the traveling and healing he'd been doing.

"Our friends discussed a proposition with me that you might present," said the man at last when the others had finished their meal. Lex sopped up the last of the stew with a chunk of flat bread and swallowed it down. Shaun glanced at Lex. _Why am I out of the loop on this?_ he thought as he watched his fellow time traveler pass the bowl off to the woman who wanted it and turn back to Luca. Lex took a long breath and let it out again.

"The Assassin Order would like to recruit you and your band." Silence reigned around the fire. Luca looked at him shrewdly, one of his hands holding his chin.

"Why?"

"We've got a common enough enemy. The Borgia Pope and his men and his son." This was from Shaun.

"These men mean next to nothing to us. Insane pontiffs and their families come and go."

"But this insane pontiff has military forces for his backing and one of them helped kick start the Inquisition. Once they're done with the Muslims and Jews, who's to say they won't move on to the Romani?" Luca's brow furrowed at the Englishman's words. Lex shifted himself; the man's eyes flicked to him, though they seemed to stare through him at something in the distance.

Finally, Luca spoke again, "What would your conditions be if we were to join your little band?"

"The Romani would remain as they always have. You go where you please and can inform us of anything there, be our eyes and ears, and report to us. In return for information, we would give you the skills we have cultivated since the beginning to protect yourselves, as well as protecting you with our lives." The man's dark eyes focused on him again.

"Would we have to wear that red clothing your friends do?" he asked with as straight a face as Lex had ever seen, then laughed. The others who had been seated around him, listening, laughed as well, which led to the Assassins chuckling.

"No," the Assassins finally managed in one voice. Luca nodded.

"We must discuss this, my _kumpania_ and I. Go and have fun. Go dance. The looks on your faces have been far too serious this evening, even among friends." He looked at Nico and Maria. "You may stay, if you wish, my friends. It's been so long since I've seen you."

"You'd allow us to?" the apothecary blurted, staring.

"You can give us more information on these men who want us to join them in their ranks. Or, should we say, who want to become part of ours?" The man's lips quirked up into a smirk as the two took their seats once more and the voices rose up around him to voice their opinions and comments.

January 1, 1500

The next day, the Assassins were awoken by Amir and the sound of cannon fire.

"Ezio's here! Ezio's here!" The Sparrow groaned as he lifted his head and found it pillowed on Ricardo's thigh. His arm was hooked beneath the leg he'd pillowed his head on, the rest of him sprawled out on the man. A red hood was on his stomach; he could just see the scarred face beneath it, the Owlet's arms wrapped around his legs and back.

Lex lifted his head from his immediate area and looked around. Fonso had his head on Rawney's chest with what looked like odd bruises on both their necks, Rawney sleeping against the wall beside the church doors. Mihai was nestled in a cart of flower petals, or the remnants of such, as the petals were strewn everywhere around them, his arm and head poking up out of it. Majid's arm was sticking out of it as well, his hand clasped with the Roma's.

"_Ahk! Ahk!_ Ezio's back!" Amir cried right in his ear.

"Ayyyy! _Ya Allah, _Mir-Mir, what the fuck?" Lex shrieked, his head screaming just as loudly. He gripped at it, moaning, "What the absolute fuck happened last night?" The shouting had woken Scars, who jerked his head up, looked at Amir, turned, looked at Lex, and settled his head down again, looking as pained as Lex felt. He swore under his breath. "My sentiments exactly."

"You don't even know what he said," Amir said with an indignant cheep, arms akimbo.

"I know a 'what the fuck' when I hear it, even if I can't understand it," stated the Sparrow. The Coal Tit rolled his eyes and said, "You all go drunk and danced the night away and ended up in ludicrous positions when you fell over, giggling like idiots."

"What time is it?"

"Two in the afternoon."

"_**What?**_" Lex bolted up. Scars swore again and shoved him back down. Lex propped himself onto his elbows then, an ache behind his eyeballs like someone was taking a knife to the backs of them. "Where the hell are Badr and Shaun?"

"I don't see what that has to do with the time, but they're out riding to meet Brother and Uncle."

"Did they end up having a romp in the hay last night?"

"No, though Mama wishes they had. They spent the night talking about religion. Then Shaun fell asleep on him."

"Did Badr...?"

"No, but wishes he had." With that, the Coal Tit was off toward the Villa to tell Maria and Jameel the good news.

When Lex finally managed to extricate himself from the other men—no mean feat, the way Scars clutched at him—he staggered up to the Villa, holding his head the entire way. He heard Ezio speaking with Claudia and his mother, but paid it no mind. Finding the room Jameel stayed in, he grabbed the bag of aspirin. In the kitchens, he discovered, to his relief, some orange juice. Downing the medicine with some of the juice, he returned to Jameel's room and burrowed under the covers, grateful that the window faced east.

"Little bird?"

"Ugh..." He wasn't certain what time it was, but when he opened his eyes the room was dark.

"You've been sleeping all day. What's the matter?" Jameel's long, calloused fingers touched his forehead. "You smell like a wineskin."

"Happy New Year. Let me go back to sleep, please. My head's killing me."

"As you wish." Lips brushed against his cheek and jaw, arms folding him into a loose embrace against his lover's chest.

"How's your leg?"

"I'm walking." Jameel opened his mouth to say more, but a soft snore answered his statement. He dipped his head down, kissing the smaller man's cheek near his lips, before allowing himself to pillow his head just behind his, breathing in the smell of him as his fingers combed his hair, palm pressed to his cheek.

X x X

_Darkness._ Where is everyone? _He looked around. Nothing but the faint outline barren wastes, the sky above moonless, even starless thanks to the low-hanging clouds._ Why am I here in the middle of nowhere? _He tried his Night Vision; it wouldn't work, no matter how hard he focused. He felt himself over. He lacked his weapons, armor, even his clothing._

_A knot of fear worked its way up inside of him. He forced it down with a swallow._ No! There has to be a way out of this! _He started walking. He felt he walked in circles, arms outstretched before him like a blind man. The ground rose up. He crested the rise, only for his foot to catch on something. The Red Owl's face met the ground, the friction of his fall bringing some warmth to his skin. But what had he been caught on?_ Something...

_Jameel half-turned to see what he had fallen over. The stars pricked through the clouds then, illuminating a body. He was about to put himself back on his feet when a pair of hands wrapped around his ankles. They were the corpse's hands, decaying things partially covered by rotted leather gloves and the remnants of rusted bracers. He froze as the head rose, revealing a face equally rotted, the hood moth-eaten and covered in the large, brown-black patches of dried bloodstains. He knew that face, would know it anywhere, even if he had been as blind as he'd felt minutes ago._ No... No, no, no!

_"You left me to die." The voice was piteous and frail, a mere whisper on the wind, though the accusation stung none the less. Jameel tried to speak, but found his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth._ No, no, I'd never leave you! I'd die first! _His mind brought up Venice then. Tears studded his vision for a brief moment._

Movement caught the corners of his eyes. The Assassin panicked, trying to escape the corpse's ice cold grip. It was to no avail, the fingers like iron traps. More corpses soon surrounded him in a loose ring. Shredded robes, rusted weapons, rotted leather, different faces. Some lacked eyes, others lacked lips and teeth, a few hardly had any faces left at all!

"We followed you!"

"We trusted you!"

"You led us to our doom and didn't even think twice to rescue us!"

The dead tightened their circle around him. They were friends, old comrades in arms, and here they were, pushing him down to the ground. The one that had gripped his ankles climbed atop him, the mutilated lips brushing his own when it hissed, "We will return the favor!" Their teeth sank into him, tearing his flesh wherever they could reach. Pain washed over him, his blood almost blissfully warm, the corpse atop him gnawing at his mouth and tongue almost tenderly, even when he wished to shriek as his tongue was shorn away.

His eyes left the corpse, gazing toward the moonless sky, only to see a pair of yellow lenses fitted in a white, beaked mask soullessly staring down at him. He thought he saw a sinister smile crease the white beak...

Jameel gasped, flailing his arms like a drowning man reaching the surface of the water, as he bolted upright in the bed. Cold sweat clutched the sheets to his bare skin. He looked around. The room was still dark, though he could see the barest hint of light on the horizon that signaled the not-far-off dawn. He looked down. Lex lay on his side, arms outstretched toward him almost pleadingly. Whole, he was whole and breathing and alive, his eyes twitching behind his lids as he dreamed.

The Assassin shuddered, unable to suppress the silent sobs that wracked his frame any longer. _Damn it all._ He leaned down again, drawing the smaller man into his arms and curling around him as best as he was able. He cuddled closer as the Sparrow squirmed and slipped his arms around his neck, head pressing beneath his chin, his warmth alone soothing him back into a dreamless sleep.

January 2, 1500

Shaun gasped as he was awakened by a horrendous explosion. Badr's hand closed over his mouth the next moment, his voice in his ear husky with sleep, "We are under attack. The enemy are in armed ranks with heavy artillery. Get to the Villa. Stop for nothing. _Inshallah_, I will see you when this chaos is over."

"_Inshallah_," Shaun agreed in a whisper before he pelted his way out of the blind man's house, glimpsing rank upon rank of soldiers and cannon and horse before he ducked beneath the closing portcullis. The cannons overhead on the walls sounded as he ran, hopping up onto the roofs to get out of the ranks of milling citizenry.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw men in black flitting over the rooftops, firing arrows. Some exploded. Some threw grenades that released smoke. He pulled his hood up, covered his mouth with a cloth he found stuffed somehow within it. It had been a peaceful night; they had sat on the roof, talking of religions and politics and history—at least, what was history to him.

Now, total chaos.

One of the black-clad men halted on the roof before him, sneering. His head was bald, his neck long, a ruff of white feathers on his collar.

"Assassin," he called in Italian thick with a Russian accent, "lay down your weapons!"

"Templar," Shaun heard himself yell back over the sound of exploding tiles, "come and get them!" He was fairly sure the man would have skinned him alive had not a tile flown up and clocked him on the side of the head. The Russian slumped to the roof and tumbled out of sight. Shaun nodded his thanks, but Amir and Fonso were already away.

Having nowhere else to go, the Brit followed them. Luca was shouting orders to his men, grasping Fonso by the shoulders and shouting at him. The Romani scattered through the village. A pair of men appeared from nowhere, clad in some sort of livery. All Shaun saw was dust and reds and whites, and then Luca had stuck a chiv into their livers and they were on the ground, bleeding out their lives in the rubble.

The historian let out a startled yell as what looked like a Molotov cocktail for a moment flew down and burst apart at his feet. Leaping away from the hot liquid within, he spun, only to face another beaked stranger. A black dagger came at him. He rolled away, scooped up a piece of broken bottle, and rammed it home beneath the white beak. Blood spurted hot onto his hands as the Crow fell back, gurgled, died. The Harrier ran toward the Villa.

The Brit looked up, spotting the Vulture twins standing in front of Lex, who was dodging around their explosive liquor. One had a fine, bloody gash in his head. Moving as if in a dance, they began to throw daggers at the Sparrow, his blade fending them off with quick clangs of steel on steel.

"You knew that we would come here," said gash-head.

"To slay and slaughter all you hold dear," said his twin.

"Stealing, maiming, weaving the lie," they said as one voice. "The Vulture Twins will guarantee that you all die!"

"_Fuck you!_" Gash-head's brother screeched as Lex jabbed out his eye with his rapier. Shaun landed on Gash-head's back, smashing his jaw with a chunk of masonry he snatched up from the ground. Lex looked up, eyes wide, and screamed, "Run!" The Assassins and the Vulture threw themselves aside as a cannonball landed where they had stood; the one twin supported the other as they retreated over the roofs.

Shaun pushed himself up and swiped the dust away from his eyes, though it clung to his face with his sweat. He looked around, coughing.

"Sparrah?" he called. A coughed "I'm here" answered him. Panting, Lex crawled from beneath where a chunk of stair had been thrown up onto him, his shoulder bloodied. "I'm oka—" He yelped as a bullet the size of the eyeball he'd poked out pinged off the stairs beside him. The two men hurried down into the chaos once more.

"_Opre, Roma!_" They heard Ricardo shout like a war cry, several men in livery and the Crows with them suddenly crushed by falling debris that was shoved from the rooftops. The battle had found its way to the former dancing ground, Fonso, Mihai, and a group of others fighting before the steps, Ignacio and Uberto battling atop them.

Shaun drove his hidden blade into the spine of one of the men in uniform as Rawney slit his throat. Amir rolled by and rose up tossing daggers into a few Crows. Fonso and Mihai had stolen a few black bows and were using them to deadly effect with the men beside them. The smaller man jerked back as an axe man came from the swirling dust, his blow almost cleaving him in two. Mihai lifted him then by the throat and slammed him down onto the ground twice. He didn't get up.

A cluster of men burst from the dust, shouting so furiously Shaun had trouble catching what they'd said. Ricardo pulled him one way as his sister, her face and dress and arms smeared with the blood of her enemies, hauled Amir the other, Uberto's hammer coming down to smash the heads of two of the leading men like melons, spraying their fellows with a gooey shower of brain and bone and blood.

Ignacio, to Shaun's surprise, was no less violent. A crack and a crunch was heard as one Crow's beak was broken, his nose shoved back into his brain. The little monk turned, curls falling in his face, and shoved another's Adam's apple back into his throat. The man gasped, wheezed, and collapsed to join the other bodies.

Panting, Shaun looked up and realized he stood in a ring of bodies. Then he was being dragged toward the Villa. He caught sight of Lex for a moment, heading toward the main gates, but then disappeared inside the building to follow the stream of civilians heading down into the Sanctuary.

The Sparrow raced across the rooftops after Ezio, whom he had seen capering around in just a shirt and pants throughout the city. Below him lay carnage. He could see where hands and feet stuck out from the rubble, sometimes only pools of blood. These made him gag. He continued on, dropping down when he spotted a familiar face. Majid and Scars were fending off a group of Crows from Nadya and Daniele. The swordsman stabbed another, his brother blocking with a light buckler he wore on his arm. Another Crow went down, a throwing dagger lodged in his back. Scars ran the last one through and nodded to the Sparrow as they moved into one group, moving toward the street that led to the Villa.

The group froze as a gunshot rang out.

Before them lay Mario Auditore, half his head gone. Ezio lay not far off, though hidden from view of the intruders in an alley, grasping his shoulder. Behind Mario stood the man with the literal smoking gun, a man with straight black hair, a beard, and a smirking face. Beside him was a blonde woman in a dress. Flanking them was a man in dented, scratched armor, his lion's face helm and pauldrons glinting sinisterly in the light and a man in black feathers, looking more like a giant crow than his followers with the bone-white mask sticking out from his headdress, his feathered cloak falling around him like folded wings. Some of the feathers moved, revealing themselves to be actual crows as they flew down and began to peck at Mario's remains.

An arrow pierced one of the carrion birds, pinning it to the ground where it quorked, flapped briefly, then went still. The group raised their eyes to where Majid stood, bow still in hand. The Metal Lion unslung his axe from his back as the bearded man reloaded his pistol, the black-feathered one waving his hand.

The scene exploded into chaos once again, only of the briefer kind. A Crow dropped down before them, his feathers colored purple in places. Majid screamed. Daniele forced his wife back as the feathered fiend slashed at him. The Sparrow and Scars were put on the defensive. And the Metal Lion drew closer.

"Majid!" Scars fell back as a blade sliced through his robes, grazing a line into his skin. "Majid!"

The downed Owlet screamed again, sobbing as he clutched and clawed at his face, "_Dadash! Komak, komak!_" The Owlet kicked at the ground and screamed again as the purple-feathered Crow turned toward him. The Sparrow lunged forward, jabbing, only to be forced to retreat as a gash was scored into his bracer. It was enough. Scars scooped up the other man into his arms, wheezing and sobbing now.

The Crow slashed at the Sparrow again. Lex spun away, stumbling as his heel caught on a chunk of rock and falling onto his back. Daniele moved forward, blocking the blade that was aimed for the smaller man's heart. The Crow knocked his hand away as it came down with a knife, ready to stab him instead. A yowl came from it as a stone smashed onto his head. Whipping around, the fiend turned on Nadya.

"Stop!" The blade halted at the growl. A metal-clad fist closed around some of the purple and black feathers, the Lion tossing the Crow behind him. The purple-feathered mercenary landed hard on the detritus of the attack before rolling up to his feet as the young woman stared at the great maw before her. The Lion gazed at her for a long moment. "Your eyes. I remember them from long ago." He leaned closer, the lion's nose brushing hers. "Who is your mother, girl?"

Before she could answer, the report of a shot rang out and madness engulfed the field again. The Lion whirled round to see the bearded man aiming toward Ezio, who was running along the roofs. Daniele scooped Nadya into his arms, the Sparrow racing after them and the Owlets up to the Villa. Reaching the doors, they threw them open and barred them shut.

"Go, go!" Lex pushed at the couple and Scars. "Go, I'll shut the door to the study behind you!" The group rushed to the study, the woman and her husband entering the tunnel. Scars passed them his brother. Lex sucked in a breath as Scars grabbed him by the shirt and all but threw him down the stairs. Rolling, the Sparrow twisted around to a stop. "What're you doing?"

"Take care of Majid!" The door shut, sealing them in darkness. The lock clicked. There was nowhere to go but down.

**Hay una otra puta pelirroja sin alma se llama Caterina Sforza? = There's another soulless, redheaded bitch named Caterina Sforza?**

**Lo siento = I'm sorry**

**Sono qui! Sono qui! I Romani sono qui! = They're here! They're here! The Romani are here!**

**Figlio, nascondere tua moglie, i figlie e argento. Non hai sentito? Gli zingari stanno arrivando. = Son, hide your wife, children, and silver. Didn't you hear? The gypsies have arrived.**

**Signore, se hanno preso le tue cose per errore, li avevano danno subito. = Sir, if they take anything of yours by mistake, they'll give it right back.**

**Come si fa a saperlo? = How do you know this?**

**Ho visto i tuoi ogetti di valore. Non sono ladri vale la pena. = I've seen your valuables. They're not worth thieving.**

**Salute/Salve = Hello**

**Laissez le bon temps roulle/Cominiciamo a divertici volte. = Let the good times roll**

**Sastimos = To your health/hello**

**Dordi = Lordy**

**Chavo = Boy**

**Kumpania = Band**

**Ya Allah = Oh God**

**Inshallah = God willing/Hopefully**

**Opre, Roma! = Arise, Roma!**

**Dadash! Komak, komak! = Brother! Help, help!**

**And so we conclude Venimus and move on to Vidimus. I hope you all have enjoyed the first part of **_**The Brotherhood's Creed**_** and hope to see you again for the second and third. As always, you keep reading, I'll keep writing. –Your beloved (maybe?) author.**


	9. Interludio

Forli, Romagna, Italy  
1497

"_Bruderherz._" The teen looked up from putting the finishing touches on his sketch. His brother, tall and blonde with the first scruff of beard on his jaws, sighed. "I doubt Signora Sforza will find it very complimentary that you've drawn her this way."

"Well, I believe she should. She's fostered us here long enough. I think it's high time I decorate this dreary bog-castle with some artwork!" The elder of the two brothers stood, hands on his hips, a skull tucked beneath one arm. "Besides, I've got her proportions down to every nook and cranny. How can she not be pleased?"

X x X

"Do you think this a joke?" asked the woman as she stared down at the two boys. The dark-headed one grinned.

"Nay, madam. I consider it giving you a compliment. After all, the soldiers I gave this to said they never knew their mistress was so strong that she could shoot lightning from her crotch and fire chunks of stone out her ass like a trebuchet."

The only sound that filled the room after this statement was the crackle of torches and the smack of flesh against flesh as the blonde brother slapped his palm to his face and sighed.


	10. Vidimus Chapter VIII

**Sorry for not updating in forever. I've been busy with school in Spain. This is one of the first weekends where I can sit around and write for a little while. Be glad of it, dear readers, be glad of the weather. So, without further ado, let's get into Vidimus.**

January 3, 1500

A veritable caravan of the wounded made their way to the monastery of San Gimignano. A few of the Monteriggioni villagers parted ways with them there, heading for the walled city nearby. Others had fled to Florence. Of Ezio, there had been no sign since rushing from the small, walled town. To where Claudia and her other had fled, the group reaching the sanctuary walls had no clue either.

Ignacio and Amir of all people had led the monks in preparing what they would need for the wounded, having gone ahead with a few of them. Luca had been lowered from his horse by Mihai and taken into the church with Fonso. The Rom Baro had taken a heavy blow from some falling masonry, breaking some of his ribs. Fonso sustained a nasty gash on his arm, wrapped in his shirt tight as he was able to make it.

Shaun groaned when he slid down from his mare's back, staggering. He had never ridden so far so fast and now all he could do was drop to his ass and shake, looking down at his hands. They were bloody and blistered. Reaching up, he felt along his head. His glasses were still intact, thankfully, though as smeared with dust and grime as the rest of him was. Somehow, he had taken a hit in the face; it was swollen on the one side.

It took him a moment to realize he was shaking, his breath coming and going in trembling pants, as if he couldn't catch it. _What do they call this nowadays? Battle fatigue?_ he wondered, almost unsheathing his hidden blade when a pair of hands grabbed his arm.

"Is this arm still attached to you, Novice?" Badr asked, the blind man levering him to his feet. "_Yallah_, Novice, up. A newborn colt has more strength in his legs than you."

"Is that supposed to rouse me from this stupor?" the Brit whispered as the blind man looped them together, Shaun's arm at his neck, his own at the redhead's waist. "I don't think it's gonna work, mate. I'm worn out." Badr turned his head toward him then and gave him what would have been a glower.

"You're only allowed to be worn out when I say so, Novice. Your limbs are not broken from what I've felt. Now put one of your legs in front of the other, repeat, and march." Allowing the other man to take his weight, Shaun was led up the stairs into the monastery. It was then he realized what was missing—the clack of nails on stone. Where were the dogs?

The historian had no time to ask, however. The thunder of hooves had reached his ears. Turning, he saw a group of riders dismount. The taller ones supported a young man between them. Lex went by him without a word. He ran a hand over his sooty, bloody face, smearing it into an even more dirty appearance as he reached the area where the wounded were being settled and began tending to his work.

"Did anyone see you? Or how did this happen?" the Harrier heard Badr ask the Red Owl as the man was sat and made to bite on a stick as a piece of stone was taken from his upper arm, the wound cleansed and bound.

"No," he said in response, almost too quietly. "No, no one saw me. This was the cannon fire's work." His blue eyes scanned their surroundings, taking in the injured most of all. He had not had time to catch a glimpse of what the embattled Villa had looked like, but to judge from those lying moribund; their side had not won this day.

A bucket was passed around for those less severely wounded to clean themselves. Shaun rinsed his face and glasses before passing it on. Badr sat beside Jameel, both too quiet for the younger man's liking. Amir went by with a sigh, carrying fresh water to the wounded. The historian watched the Coal Tit go by, his gaze pausing briefly on the spot where the Rom Baro lay.

Luca was stripped to the waist, his chest being bandaged by Ignacio. The young monk's face was set into an almost stony, serious expression, though the man beneath his hands was giving him a weak smirk, a hand on the monk's arm.

"What do we do now?" This from the Eternal Novice as he took a seat beside them. He looked as lost as the rest of them; the tracks of tears were still on his face. "They killed Uncle. They killed Uncle." His lip began to quiver. Shaun reached over, drawing the boy to his chest as sobs left him. Uberto moved over to Jameel, kneeling and checking the wounds beneath the old bandages he still wore.

"Hm..."

"Hmm?" Shaun looked at Jameel.

"Who could be pulling the strings on this attack? Besides the Metal Lion?"

For one incredulous instant, Shaun felt the need to explode on the man. While everyone else was injured, possibly dying, he was sitting here, twiddling his thumbs, and Jameel was wondering about what amounted to cases of Unidentified Flying Objects. Following the instinct, he snapped, "Oh, I don't know, Jameel. Let's think about this, shall we? It could be the Pope, or his family, or some Mafioso style conspiracy ring, or the gods on Mount bloody Olympus for all we know! But maybe other things can be thought of instead, y'know, more appropriate things at this moment in time!"

The man grunted as a hand whacked him upside the back of his head, teeth smacking down painfully on his tongue. The blow had come from Badr.

"Perhaps you should take your own advice, boy, and do something instead of just sitting there and thinking about it." Glaring at the Desert Falcon, the Harrier stood and hissed, "Right. Getting on with that." Boots hitting the stone more heavily than they had any right to, it seemed, he made his way to help with the wounded.

Lex was cleaning off his hands in the bucket. He reached down and splashed some water on his face as well. His own wounds had been tended by someone else, it seemed; Shaun could see bandages poking from beneath the rip in the shoulder of his shirt. He scratched absently at a cut on his cheek where the blood had dried and begun to itch before turning back to his task.

Majid's face was a horror story all its own, the acid having splattered on his nose and eyes and throat. The two men could see the empty hole beneath the cartilage. His breaths were ragged, shallow, and long in coming, his lips and throat puckered. His face was white as plaster where it poked out beneath the blankets he'd been wrapped in.

"_Dadash..._" The word was barely audible, a mere rattle in the young man's throat. "_Dadash..._" The Sparrow sat beside him silently, breathing hard enough for both of them, one hand grasping Majid's. The other man shuddered, gripping back weakly in return. It felt like an eternity before the next rattled breath and, "_Man mitarsam..._"

For a moment, Shaun wondered if the poor boy had fallen asleep. His eyes had slid shut, his body shifting ever so slightly. Then he realized that his chest had stopped moving. A strange silence seemed to fill the area, broken only by the almost breathless muttering of the kneeling teen beside him, who held the dead one's hand up near his lips and was whispering to it almost fervently, eyes squeezed shut.

Finally, Lex lowered the other's hand down to his side and stood. Shaun lifted his head, watching as the Sparrow readied his equipment, the meager amount that remained to him after the battle.

"What on earth are you up to?" The other time traveler paused, looking at him. Without a word being spoken, Shaun had his answer. "Oh, no. No, Lex." He stood. "You're staying right fucking here, understand? You're staying with us!" Amir turned halfway from where he'd curled into Badr, looking toward them as the Brit raised his voice, the echo ringing within the ceiling arches.

Jameel shook his head, leaning forward as well as he was able, steadied by Badr's shoulder.

"I know exactly what you are trying to do, Skandar," he said, falling naturally into his mother tongue, "and I will not allow it." The Red Owl watched as the small Journeyman glared at him, a desperate, angry little look. "You will only get killed if you insist on pursing this insane endeavor." _I do not want you to become that shade from my nightmares, you fool!_ When the Sparrow made to turn toward the door, Jameel almost rose, pain shrieking through the bones of his legs as he shouted, "God damn you to hell for your willfulness! Sit down!"

It was then that he saw what made the younger man turn. Scars staggered forward almost drunkenly, one hand pressed tight to his middle where a blossom of blood had flowered. Lex caught him before he could hit the ground, pressing his hand over his own with a cry of "Shit! Shaun, get over here, now!"

Shaun lifted Scars' legs as they carried him over to a clean blanket on the floor and set him down. Ordering some monks and a few of the Romani women to bring him a few items that seemed to have no place around an injured man, he set to work. The wound was from a bullet, that much was clear, though he had to feel and make sure whether it had been a through-and-through shot or whether the ball had lodged within the Owlet. "Shaun, hold him down. Somebody, grab a stick!" Uberto offered one up, wedging it between the red-clad man's already clenched teeth.

He took the pair of pliers offered up by one of the women, sticking them into the flame of the candle one of the monks had placed nearby, heating them to a white point. "Hold him down." Ignacio and Uberto obliged. He cut away the man's robes with the point of his dagger. "Ready?" Scars gave him a weary look and managed a single nod. He pressed the hot metal into the wound until it touched the bullet, carefully so as not to damage any blood vessels or organs nearby.

Removing the object was done with even more care before he took up a slim piece of metal, heating it as he had the pliers. Rinsing the wound, he pressed the piece into it, sealing the damage inside. Cleaning the surrounding area on the man's skin, his patient's hand clamped on his neck like a vice, he slipped an offered needle into the Owlet's flesh, sewing him shut. Slathering a bandage with disinfectants, he tied it over his stomach, looping it once and binding it with a hard knot.

Sweat soaked the Sparrow's robes down to his back, neck, and chest, his bangs down in his eyes as he leaned back. Every muscle released the tension of moments before with violent tremors. Shaun eased the stick out of Scars' mouth as the man was given some water. He able to get a sip of water down before he passed out. Moving to where the other Assassins sat, the Harrier dropped beside Badr and Amir. He was glad for their warmth.

When the last of those waiting for treatment had been tended to, the time traveler saw that the night had advanced rapidly. The dead had been moved outside. Torches had been lit, the monks moving off into the chapel to pray; everyone else curling up in bunches and clusters to sleep. The Assassins had retired to their rooms; he saw then that the Valez family was reunited in one of them. Making a final round of those lying on the floor, he was stopped, a hand grasping his leg. Kneeling, he looked at Scars. The man gazed back at him silently for some moments, the hand now gripping his robes.

"My brother is gone, isn't he?" The fist tightened, threatening to choke him. "My brother is dead?"

"I'm sorry." He shook, head bowed, tears falling to the stones beneath his hands and knees. "I'm sorry." A sob wrenched its way out of his throat as he curled up, transforming at the end into a whine. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He was drawn roughly down to his stomach, forced to look up or eat flagstone. Snot and tears meshed on the youth's reddened face, his chin quivering, and sweat beaded his brow.

The swordsman had tears standing in his eyes as well, a few slipping down his cheeks. With what seemed like all the strength he had in him, he stated, "It is not your fault."

**Dadash… Dadash… Man mitarsam… = Brother… Brother… I'm afraid...**

**Please don't kill me for starting out with all this sad. It'll get better. Slowly but surely. And I'll try to update more over this weekend.**


	11. Vidimus Chapter IX

**AC's chara's belong to Ubisoft. The Brunnen-G Battle Hymn belongs to the creators of Lexx.**

**Thanks to Tobi for the reviews. X3**

San Gimignano, Italy  
January 4, 1500

In the morning, Shaun opened the door to his chamber and peered out into the hall. He had awoken to find his head resting beside Badr's on the pillow, so close he felt the scratch of the other man's stubble against his cheek when he lifted up his head. Now as he entered the hall where the wounded lay, he found an equally unexpected sight. The scarred Owlet lay where he'd been set, though now with the addition of the Sparrow's lap as a pillow. Looking at his fellow time traveler, the Harrier felt an instant's pity for the crick his neck would have once he awoke and started moving.

The Brit eased himself down to a sit beside the monastery door, keeping his eyes on the world outside. It was a clear day, the clouds white and sparse, the horses grazing in the field nearby. Already, the monks were up and about, preparing for breakfast and morning prayers. Likewise, the Romani women were making their meals.

He heard the doors open down the hall. Amir, Badr, and the Valezes shuffled into the light, Jameel and Badr using the walls for guiding supports. The Harrier shifted his eyes to the pair he'd regarded before. Both were still asleep, dead to the world. He looked between the Assassins and their sleeping comrades. The group paid them no mind, intent on the food the monks had prepared.

The only one who seemed to notice besides him was Ignacio, whose gaze was so fixed on them that he almost spilled the bowl of porridge he was carrying to Luca all over the Rom Baro's head.

"Inigo!" the man exclaimed. "I know Nico's touted the benefits of porridge for the hair, but I'd rather you slop it into my mouth!"

"You'd rather have something in your mouth, all right," the Brit heard the apothecary murmur. The man stared at her for a long moment before grabbing the porridge and stuffing his mouth, stifling further attempts at conversation.

When the smells of food and chatter finally roused him, Lex sighed as he ran a hand over his eyes. They still felt heavy, gritty, and dry from the tears he'd shed. Someone was good enough to pass him some water. He smeared some of it over his face and drained the rest.

He smiled as Maria passed him a small bowl. The oatmeal was sweetened with honey. The Sparrow's eyes rolled up as his mouth watered, enjoying every spoonful. Scars came around a few minutes later, his stomach demanding the food that it needed.

Hours passed as the able-bodied left and returned bearing the dead they could find from the ruins of Monteriggioni.

The some monks fashioned markers for the dead as others gave the dead Last Rites. After this was done, all set to digging graves. Ignacio and Uberto handed Lex, Shaun, and Amir shovels for them to join in. A soft dirge came from one of the men as he tapped a marker down into the dirt. The others took it up. Even Shaun hummed along for a bit before the work they were at stole his voice.

A long, white sheet was found for Majid when they reached him. Wrapping him carefully, the Coal Tit went to the head of the grave with a small book and began to read. Lowering the others into the ground—men, women, children—the workers bowed their heads silently for a long moment before tossing in handfuls of dirt, one handful each into each grave. They then set to work filling the holes back in with earth. The two Assassins moved along the line, joined by Amir, who had finished with their comrade. They assisted the Romani women after some cautious questioning of propriety, who had prepared their dead as well, placing their tools and possessions with them. Most were sobbing, some giving off warbling ululations that set the Assassins' hair on end, the children with them joining in the sounds of grief.

As the bodies were placed gently in the ground, coins were thrown in with the handfuls of dirt before the Assassins covered these graves as well. When the women left and returned with what seemed like offerings of payment, the men protested, but in vain, finally paying a few coins. After finally taking the items, they studied them for a time.

Amir sniffed and rubbed his nose, clutching the whistle he'd been given to his chest as he trotted up the steps to show Luca. Shaun carefully tied the cloth pouch he'd received around his neck with a string of leather; the woman had said it contained a charm against the Evil Eye. Lex fiddled with the turquoise bracelet that had been slipped around his wrist.

All their minds were on the dead, even as they tended to the living and all prepared for departure. Discussions were had; lunch came in the form of cheese, salted ham, and hunks of bread.

"Do you think we would be able to slip into the city somehow? In separate groups?" Shaun asked. The other men looked at him. Badr frowned. "Maybe even get an audience with our friends the Borgia as ambassadors or something of the sort?" The historian's mind was working a mile a minute, drumming up facts, dates, the alliances of the day, who had rivalries with whom.

"Those damn Crows will be everywhere. Your disguise had better be very convincing." Jameel tore into the ham, too hungry to care what sort of meat it was. "I will not go with you if you plan to assault the place. I'm not fit for fighting yet, and they will recognize my face before we even come within five miles of the Vatican."

"Oh, don't worry, it will be." Shaun jerked his thumb at Lex, ignoring the looks he was given by Jameel and Amir. "The servant boy'll be attending me."

"Servant boy?" Lex asked around a mouthful of food. "Are you serious?"

"How else are we supposed to make the guards let you in with me? Gentle coaxing?"

"You're a dick." Badr chuckled at the Sparrow's words as they finished their meal in relative silence, the rest of the details being roughly hashed out between bites.

While the teams were formed and the mounts and vardos prepared, the Journeyman went to check on his patient one last time before heading on the trek south. He explained their plan as he changed the dressing on the Owlet's wound.

"I'll be heading out first to scout with Shaun, Uberto, and Inigo. You'll be with Jameel and—" He stopped as a hand settled heavily on his shoulder, looking up at the other man. Scars looked closely into the younger Assassin's eyes. One would have had to have been an idiot of grand magnitude not to see the grief in the taciturn man's face.

"Make me a promise, Hakim." Lex looked at him confusedly. "Make me a promise," he repeated, "that you will take care when you go there. Do not be the next one to follow my brother to the grave. You were there, the one to hear his last words, and I am thankful for that." He paused, their eyes never wavering from where they had locked with one another. The hand on his shoulder tightened to an almost painful degree. "And I want to have you fighting at my side when I take revenge for my brother's death."

Lex nodded, returning the squeeze with one of his own on Scars' shoulder.

"I promise. You too, okay? Don't do anything stupid on the road? You're still healing from taking a bullet to your guts." For a minute, the man considered snapping at him. _Stupidity isn't my usual way of tackling a difficult situation!_ The angry glower vanished as quickly as it had come, restrained.

"I will keep to resting and healing as long as you keep your promise and don't do anything foolish." The time traveler nodded and squeezed his hand as it released his shoulder, which now felt like it would bear a hand-shaped bruise for some time.

"I'll hold you to that." The Owlet followed him slowly down the stairs as he went to his mount, where Jameel stood, braced by a crutch. Shaun was already ahorse with Inigo and Uberto, waiting. The Red Owl looked down at him before taking him into his arms. Lex started, but returned the embrace. After a time, they parted, the Sparrow mounting and trotting after the others as they started off.

Husam exchanged looks with the Night Master as he reached him, then glanced to where the dust the horses' hooves had whirled up was still sinking to the ground.

"Will he be safe, _Sayyid_?" Jameel nodded, scratching thoughtfully at the stubble at his chin and jaw.

"_Inshallah._ You never know with songbirds, but so far luck has been kind to him. Let's hope it remains thus."

X x X

The ride that day was long and cold, and soon enough all the members of the little band were fed up with it. Especially the Brit, who had been complaining steadily for what seemed to be seven straight hours. It had gotten to the point where even Ignacio a pleading look during a short pause to relieve themselves, asking if the man couldn't be bound and gagged for at least a little while.

Shaun was neither bound nor gagged, however, and continued his muttering until Lex cried, "Eighties sci-fi movies!"

"What?" was chorused from the other three riders.

"Shaun, what's your favorite eighties sci-fi movie?"

"Do you even know what existed in the eighties, Sparrah?" Shaun countered, wiping grit from his glasses with the sleeve of his robe.

"I loved the movie Dune and the series Children of Dune so much I'm on the hunt for the books."

"May the Force be with you then."

"And may you live long and prosper enough to answer my question."

"You'll get a kick out of this, then. My favorite eighties sci-fi series was called Lexx. Yes, with two Xs, like the beer."

"You're shitting me." The young man stared at him. "Awww, c'mon, seriously? No. No way."

"Yes, way." Shaun nodded. "There was even a romantic warrior race that had their own battle hymn. Come to think of it, the man who played the last surviving Brunnen-G was named McManus."

For the span of a heartbeat, the young man was silent. Then, "Teach it to me."

Shaun cleared his throat then and, surprising all of them, began to sing in a deep tenor what sounded like utter gibberish:

_Yo way yo...  
Yo way yo, home va ray,  
Yo way rah, Jerhume Brunnen-G!_

Lex joined in tentatively, singing the chorus as Shaun continued with:

_Way ro way, ro hannah ro,  
a way ro rah, jay hannah ray!_

Ignacio shared a worried glance with Uberto as he said, "Are you sure they haven't eaten any of the poisonous mushrooms you pointed out earlier, brother?" Uberto shook his head.

"I assume this is normal for the two. Well, I hope so. In any case, you never know with foreigners." The man looked at him then. "But what about you, my friend? You look like a yolk is lying on your shoulders." Ignacio shrugged and looked away, back at the others. Uberto nodded. _If he does not wish to speak now, he may do so when the time is right for him._ The grizzled monk turned his head toward the other riders, smiling a little and allowing himself to join in their chorus.

_Yo way yo! Home va ray!  
Yo way rah, Jerhume Brunnen-G!  
Yo way rah! Jerhume Brunnen-G!_

X x X

Jameel and Husam rode alongside the wagon Luca lay in. The man had wanted to ride on his own, but between his protesting ribs and Amir's glaring pout, he'd been forced to ride. The boy trotted ahead, then back, drawing near to Fajera. The war mare pinned her ears back, but didn't snap, looking almost as annoyed as the Rom Baro felt.

The man shifted himself lower in the wagon, trying to ignore the glances of his band and avoid being stepped on by his children. The elder boys and girls kept nearer to their mother, who sat in the driver's position, the younger ones crawling or scurrying about the back where he was.

Closing his eyes, he settled on turning over the events of earlier that morning.

_"Inigo." The young monk had been up before the dawn, doing what had seemed twenty things at once. Parchment was in his hand, a quill as well. Soon enough, pigeons were flying out the door. He went to the candles in the chapel and lit them. "Inigo." Despite his calls, the other seemed deaf. "Inigo!"_

"Si, amico?" _the younger man asked as if he'd just now only heard his voice. Luca was propped against a wall, his chest aching when he breathed. The monk went to his side, kneeling down. "Are you in pain?"_

"Yes, but it's not that." The man gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit higher. "I need you to contact your associates in Rome. I know some people there. Give them a message of our coming."

"I will." The two fell silent, the stillness only broken by Luca's labored breathing. He gasped as he struggled to rise, the mousy little man taking him by the shoulders and lowering him down onto his back once more. "Stay still!"

The first brush of their lips was almost accidental, caused by their closeness and his movement. The next was deliberate, though he was too weak to hold his own head up for long. His eyes shut on the third attempt, their mouths joining as the monk's thin fingers dug their nails into his shoulders, his own hands clutching at the hempen belt at Ignacio's waist.

Their breathing was loud as cannon fire when they finally parted, the little monk wiping the line of spittle from his lips and hurrying off to finish his duties.

X x X

"Looks like somebody's thinking about you," Shaun said as Ignacio hiccupped again. The young man shook his head and took another drink from Uberto's flask.

The journey had taken them over a week, and every one of them was saddle sore and aching. The sight of the Eternal City brought more a sense of relief than awe.

"You have the address where we are supposed to ask for shelter?" Uberto asked once they had passed the guards at the city gates. Lex nodded, pulling the paper they'd torn from Shaun's journal out of his pocket. It was still a shock to hear such a question. _Does this mean we could've just Google Mapped our way out?_

Ignacio leaned over, looked at the address, and frowned.

"This is in the brothel quarter. Can we really be expected to—Ouch!" Uberto had given him a swift smack upside the head.

"Allies are allies. Told you so when we were still on the battlefield. And if help and a warm shelter are offered, I for one will not refuse." The tall monk stretched the soreness from his back and shoulders as Ignacio muttered under his breath. The group continued on, weaving through the crowded streets, more often than not having to take the reins from Shaun, who kept stopping to gawk at every historic landmark they rode by.

The dwelling they found at the address they'd been given wasn't what the men had expected. The dwelling had no gaudy baubles or ornamentation and none of the characteristic red lights the Englishman and American had heard so much of in their own time. Instead, what they looked upon was a two story brick building that could easily have belonged to a wealthy citizen.

As the men dismounted and hitched their horses to a nearby post, the door to the building swung open. A young woman stepped out and greeted them, "_Signores?_" She lifted a brow questioningly, though from the way she stood, the slight upturn the historian saw in her lip, almost a crooked smile, she didn't seem surprised that four monks would be standing on the doorstep.

Ignacio was the first to respond, pressing the crumpled paper into her hand, his face red. The woman nodded. "My mistress has been waiting for you. Come inside." The maid led the four weary men into a well-furnished anteroom that reminded Shaun somewhat of the Villa Auditore. He breathed in deeply then, noting the strong scent of perfume. Sniffing again, he noted the odd hints of herbs and something that reminded him of his last cup of Earl Grey.

"Safety and peace be upon you all. Please, feel at home under this roof." Steps were heard before the four men looked up to see their owner of the voice descending the stairs to meet them. "Now, tell me." The woman looked down upon them, a tall, slender figure in a form-fitting green gown. "What can Orianna Cavalcanti do for you?"


	12. Vidimus Chapter X

**Thanks to G, Storm, and Tobi for the reviews.**

**AC's charas belong to Ubisoft.**

Rome, Italy  
January 14, 1500

"A hot drink would be very nice, thanks," said Shaun straight away. The other three men looked at him. "Wot? I'm British. If I don't have tea when it's available, I will well and truly perish."

"And suddenly Shaun has become very rhymey," Uberto muttered.

"Which means shut the hell up, you stupid limey," Lex added, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Ignacio. The woman laughed softly as she came forward the rest of the way to meet them. Her long black hair hung free to her shoulder blades, her eyes a bright shade of amber.

"Please, don't treat him too harshly. What's mine is yours, and you must be exhausted from your long journey." The men found themselves seats as the woman took her own. The maid they'd seen before left and returned with another young woman, bearing a steaming pot of coffee, cups, a small bowl of what looked to be sugar, and a tray of fine cuts of meat.

"Can you tell us of some of the goings on in Rome?" asked Uberto as they ate.

"Cesare Borgia and his sister have taken hostage Caterina Sforza." Orianna held up her arm, giving a soft whistle. A brown ball flew through the air to land upon it, revealing itself to be a small owl with a missive attached to its leg. "_Grazie, Uva._" She held up the small piece of parchment, the letter on it more a note than anything else. "I was given this by our new leader, Niccolo Machiavelli. He states that before we make any strikes against the Borgia, we should amplify our forces. While you have traveled here, he and Ezio have already begun the work, allying with courtesans such as myself, thieves, and mercenaries."

"Machiavelli?" Shaun whispered. "_The_ Machiavelli?"

"No, the other one," said Lex, rolling his eyes as he popped yet another sugar cube into his mouth. Ignacio reached over to confiscate the bowl, but received a sharp rap on the knuckles for his pains.

"Oh, well, look who's made of snark today," the Brit countered, stealing a cube and chomping down on it.

"Once all our forces have gathered," Orianna continued, taking the bowl from the pair, "we may work to free our captured comrade and defeat the Borgia."

"About how long do you think that will take, Signora Cavalcanti?" asked the Bear.

"It could take as long as a year, or as short a time as a few months, _signore_. The length of time I cannot say."

"Uberto. Please."

"Uberto." She nodded. "If you could, could you tell me any tidings? It's difficult to hear news of our allies outside of Rome with all the Borgia about." The large monk nodded and began his tale as Orianna gave a signal to another girl who'd appeared when the young men weren't looking. Nodding to them, she led them up the stairs to the second floor and around the landing to their rooms.

When the monk finished his story, Orianna sighed. "Blood and tears. How could I expect things to be different? But thanks to the Almighty, you and most of the others are safe." She crossed herself. "I have heard strange rumors even here about these Crow men, as you call them, especially concerning the poisons used by these bastards." Her face darkened as she seemed to spit the last word. "Poisons which are supposed to tear even the strongest men's minds asunder. Rome has never been a very friendly place, Uberto, but during these last months things have become so bad that even the snake-filled deserts of Libya can be considered a safe place in comparison to the Eternal City."

She cleared her throat and continued, "If it is to your liking, you may stay here in my home. If you consider a courtesan's dwellings suitable." Uberto laughed heartily at that.

"More than suitable, signora. I fear my young friend may have his head spinning from the finery."

The woman smiled. "Please, I am Rina to my friends." _A little mouse and a big bear. What strange guests I have this time._

X x X

"What are you doing?" Shaun squinted at his companion in the darkness and could've sworn his eyes were glowing golden. Lex had one leg on the windowsill, the other still on the floor, one hand reaching up toward the eaves of the building.

"A night run."

"Love, it's..." Shaun squinted at the face of his watch, trying to make out the hands. "Too bloody dark to even see what time it is. Why are you doing this?" For an instant, the Sparrow's face fell. "You want to get caught, is that it? Or what's your reasoning behind this bit of insanity?"

"Look, don't worry, Mr. Suddenly-I'm-a-Rafiq. I know the rules. I investigate the surrounds, I keep a low profile, and if it gets too hot and I lead people back here, the Bureau door will be locked."

Shaun sighed and leaned his face into his hands. Lifting his head from them, he found the other had disappeared, slipping silently away into the night.

The buildings of Rome were practically stacked one atop the other. It was almost a breeze, apart from the tiled roofs, to traverse from the first to the next and so on. Looking up as a shadow fell across his running form; the Sparrow saw a large wooden structure rising from the city, seeming almost conspicuously out of place with the rest of the area. Atop the tower fluttered a pennant with the a family crest emblazoned upon it: a red bull on a yellow and green field, bordered on all sides by what looked from his vantage point below like tiny green flames.

Unthinking, he began to climb. The structure seemed hastily built, with enough gaps in the woodwork for hand and footholds aplenty. Splinters dug into his fingertips as he hoisted himself onto the platform where a guard in the same livery as the soldiers from Monteriggioni stood staring out into space. Ducking down as the man passed, he glanced at his surroundings. Below, he saw a large pile of hay, more than likely leftover from the construction. Slipping up behind the man, he quickly padded over and took hold of his legs. The yawn the man had been attempting to make transformed into a screech as he tumbled and landed in the straw.

The Assassin watched as a few more guards came to investigate, then took a look around. He saw a sea of rooftops, the distant haze of what could only be the Coliseum's form in the distance, the pitched stone roof of the Pantheon... An arrow winging its way into the roof above his head broke him away from sight-seeing.

Another nicked his shoulder as it flew up at him. Staggering back, the Sparrow looked about and grabbed the half-guttering torch from the sconce it stood in. Setting fire to the fletches of the arrows, he watched the roof and walls catch before hurling himself out into the night and landing in the hay below. Springing out, he was met with sword thrusts and axe slashes.

X x X

Orianna awoke from her sleep with an uneasy feeling weighing heavily on her shoulders. She hadn't had such dreams in a long time. She closed her eyes a moment and again saw herself frozen upon the windowsill, too afraid to make a single move. She stood and went to the window of her room then, the clamor of the bells about the city reaching her ears.

With swift strides, she went to her wardrobe and took a small dagger from the box therein, tucking it within the folds of her dress. Whistling to Uva, she exited the room, the little owl settling on her shoulder as she strode to the rooms that had been prepared for her guests.

Giving a sign to her maids to calm the two girls, who stood frightened and wide eyed, whispering of attacks and raids and every other possible mishap under the sun, she knocked on the door to the monks' chamber.

"What's the matter?" Inigo asked as he opened the door, his tongue still slurred with sleep, curls falling into his eyes.

"_Utter balls!_" was heard from the other room. Orianna knocked there loudly as well and entered. Before she could open her mouth to say a word, she spied the open window and that the British man was quite alone.

"Is your friend always of such hasty temperament, Harrier?" She shook her head. _He could have at least waited for me to set up a safe meeting with our allies._ "No matter. Since the damage has been done, would you mind assisting me with some preparations? Things might develop to be less peaceful than now."

"Oh, please, tell me these preparations involve me taking Lex and strangling him," Shaun whined as he followed the woman out.

X x X

The Sparrow slipped through the crowd of spectators in the plaza before the Pantheon, stumbling and almost crashing into a sword-swallower. The man withdrew the blade from his throat easily, grasping him by the arm and holding him up. The crowd murmured as the man drew him to one side, looking at him closely as he heard a weak, "_Sastimos._"

"Whose are you?" he replied, leaning the injured young man against the wall. Several cuts layered the Assassin's skin, his hands shaking. Lex ran his tongue over his split lips, stammering, "Orianna's. Luca's. The Red Owl's." He forced himself to his feet as the man began to pull him along, guards appearing on the other side of the sea of heads before them.

"There he is!"

"Stop him!"

"Go, go now!" Lex staggered into a run as the man shoved him, hurrying on fast as his legs could carry him.

The rest of the words were lost to him as he grasped the end of a tavern sign, scraping his belly against the tiles as he rolled onto the roof. Up on his feet again, he headed for the tall structure of the Coliseum. His heart was pounding up in his ears, leaving him only enough sense to take a glance behind as he heard hooves and feet on the tiles. He picked up the pace, wheezing, chest aching as he threw himself up, high as he could. Scrabbling with his fingers, he could nothing; his nails tore, the tips of his fingers skinned on the stone before he found a ledge and began to climb. A few screams were heard as some of the men attempting to follow lost their holds as well. The Sparrow moved faster, hearing the grunts and curses of those who still clung on enough to keep up behind him.

Lex panted as he reached the top of the Coliseum's walls and drew out his throwing knives, shimmying to the edge and sending them down onto his pursuers. The bodies hit the ground with dull thuds. He stopped when no more faces appeared, looking around for further signs of attackers. The Sparrow grunted as his foot suddenly went from under him, eyes widening as he was hauled backward. He clawed at the mossy surface, but found nothing to grip, letting out a yell as he was tossed downward. The breath left him as he bounced off a lower wall, falling further and further. For an instant, darkness took him. Then the guard was coming down after him.

X x X

"Are you ready?" Shaun asked, his hand on the doorknob. The monks already had their items prepared. Rina's had been sorted through as well, the woman gathering some vials together and giving him a necklace containing what looked like little red and blue capsules. _Red for analgesic, blue for vomit,_ he reminded himself. The Harrier looked at the silver pendant again. _I like the red one more. Who'd rather not feel pain than ruin their new shoes?_

As they opened the door to the building and made to step into the street, prepared to face the worst, all four jumped back, a shadowy shape landing in front of them, four eyes aglow. It took Shaun a minute to realize that it was two shape and not one, and even longer to see that one set was golden, the other purple. Stepping back further, the shape moved in, materializing into an brown-cloaked man, dressed beneath in a yellow doublet, brown belt and boots, and what looked to the Brit to be orange leather leggings and a matching undershirt.

"Signora Cavalcanti," the man greeted, his eyes returning to a slightly-more-normal shade of purple. "I believe this is yours." He nudged his cloak aside, revealing the Sparrow held beneath his arms like some kind of parcel. The Journeyman's eyes, too, had become their normal brown.

"So formal tonight, Gilberto," the woman responded, her arms folded across her chest. "I thought we had gone passed this."

"I didn't know you'd already introduced yourself to your guests, Rina."

"Where was he?" Ubero, Shaun, and Orianna interrupted as Ignacio went to gather some supplies from the room they'd left.

"I was on my way to pay some bills for my inn when one of my thieves saw him staggering out of the Coliseum, looking bloodier than if he'd just participated in a Passion play." La Volpe looked down his aquiline nose at the woman as she snorted. "What? You don't believe I could scoop this little mite up and take him along on a ride?"

"I never thought I'd hear of you paying bills."

"Well, you must know who I pay them to." He set the Sparrow down. "And if you'll excuse me, I must return on my errand." He went to the door, pausing and looking back at Lex. The thief gave the bedraggled young Assassin a wink as he took hold of the door and shut it behind him. "_Ciao, bello passero._"

The room grew deadly silent as the three turned to look at him. Lex held up his hands as if to ward off whatever was coming toward him next.

"I can explain."

"_Vaffanculo a tu,__ il__ tuo padre, e' la tua madre!_" Uberto and Shaun jumped. Orianna took a few deep breaths, suppressing the rest of the swears that threatened to leave her tongue. "Lex, or Passero, or whatever names you're given, listen to me. I may not be one of your superiors and thus it may not be my place to command you, but listen to me now, for I will only say this once to you. If you want to risk your own life, it is fine. I will not forbid you."

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "But prancing around, possibly luring the guards to our allies and my friends, putting their lives at risk...that is intolerable. You could have waited, and I could have set up a safe place for us to meet. I want to rid this city of its vermin as much as you, but with ourselves or our allies dead, we will not cleanse Rome. Think about that, for the Lord did not grant you a head simply so you might carry your fancy Assassin hood on it!" Orianna turned on her heel and stopped, the door halfway open to admit her into the night beyond.

"I will take my leave to see what can be saved. All of you, stay indoors for the rest of the night. And you." The courtesan looked at the younger man, taking in the bloodstains on his clothes. "You may be gifted somehow, but believe me, I have seen Roman streets where our brethren lay, and the memory still haunts me. Take care for now." She left, swift and silent as La Volpe had been.

Uberto sighed, turning back toward the Sparrow, only to find the Harrier pinning him to the wall, having lifted him by the scruff and slammed him into place.

"Now you listen to me, you sodding pillock," he hissed through his teeth, nose to nose with Lex. "You're going to abide by that damned Creed of yours and mine and all of ours, and do it to the letter, or so help me...so fucking help me, if you risk yourself and my best chance at having some time to actually form a decent relationship with someone important, I will wring your scrawny neck and throw you off the Sistine Chapel roof! Do you hear?" He brought him away from the wall and slammed him back again to emphasize each word. "The Sistine Chapel roof!" Lex grunted as he was dropped hard onto his ass. "Or have you forgotten where we are? This isn't some historical playland. This is real and this is serious."

The rest of the building's occupants were quiet as Shaun stormed up the stairs and slammed the door to their room. Ignacio padded by Uberto, kneeling to tend to the various cuts on their companion's body. The Bear leaned against the wall.

"You've earned yourself a nickname. Seems I have as well."

"Really? What is it? And from whom?" The monk pushed the hair back from the Sparrow's forehead, dabbing a cut over his eye.

"From the lady of the house. She calls me the Bear. And you're the Mouse."

"I suppose that makes us the strangest beings in God's menagerie."

"No, not the strangest." Uberto knelt down to help pull the Journeyman to his feet. He was slack, staring at nothing. "Not the strangest at all."

**Vaffanculo a tu, il tuo padre, e' la tua madre! ****= Go fuck yourself, your father, and your mother!**

**Ciao, bello passero = Bye, pretty sparrow**


	13. Vidimus Chapter XI

**AC's charas belong to Ubisoft. **

**Thanks to G and Tobi for reviewing.**

Rome, Italy  
January 15, 1500

The next morning came quickly, the Sparrow awakened by two loud knocks on the bedroom door. Still half-asleep, he heard a tired, female voice asking, "May I come in?"

"_Si._"

Orianna entered. Lex could see the strain she was under; she looked as if she hadn't slept for a year.

"Four injured men," she reported. "One of them might perhaps not see the next day's light. You can be glad that both Luca and I spoke in your favor."

"Luca's here?"

"Yes." The woman sighed. "Jal's wife is waiting downstairs. He didn't want to come here himself—the guards are still looking for him and he will remain hidden for the next few days—but consider his wife as his equal and treat her with respect."

"Why wouldn't I?" he muttered and stood. "Jal? Was he the sword-swallower?"

"Yes." Orianna stopped as she made for the door, turning back to look at him. "There is one more thing I would like to say, and this will stay between you and I. I don't want to chide you or patronize, but I have seen a little more of this world than you might have in your time on this earth." Her fists clenched at her sides. "My husband died trying to save a novice who thought himself so confident, the same as you. That is why I was angry with you." She looked away from him. "Bloodlust may eat the best of us; fear will do the same, and if you let it take you, you're no worthier than your enemies. I have heard tell of your skill in battle. You make the killing pretty, but the sooner you tame the animal inside you, the safer your soul will be."

The Sparrow was left to stare after her, the words leaving a cold hand gripping at his chest. After a time, he found how to work his feet again and moved downstairs to where the woman called Adara stood. The woman was of a height with him, her skin dark, nose like that of an eagle. Her eyes were dark and piercing. The young man looked at her, swallowing thickly.

"I can help with the injured."

"How do we know that?"

"Trust me. I'm a doctor." The woman seemed to weight her options on a mental balance before turning and stating, "Come." He followed.

X x X

Back in the room, Shaun sighed, awakening again. His head was sandwiched between his own and Lex's pillows, his entire body wrapped in the blankets he'd been given, a human burrito.

A cold nose had wormed its way into his cocoon, a wet tongue lathering him with kisses until he sat up and found the room occupied by Badr, Asad, and Bourkan, the excited dog's forelegs around his neck, his hips moving in a way that the Brit found distinctly disturbing.

"Time to wake up, novice," said the blind man, all too cheerily. "We've my errant colt of a blood-brother to deal with after all."

Groaning, Shaun searched for his shirt, wondering just what Badr meant. _What's he gone and done this time?_

X x X

Lex looked up from treating the last man, the least injured, as heavy footsteps came pounding his way. His face went from blank concentration to confused as he saw the man in red.

"Scars?" He gasped inwardly as he was lifted by the back of his shirt and unceremoniously shoved into one of the side rooms in the building where Jal's men had been taken, an abandoned safe house of sorts. Once inside, he was dropped, the hood thrown back to reveal the person he'd least expected it to be, though the height should have told him immediately. "Jameel?"

And then he was kissing the floor.

Lex stayed down after the blow, trying to accommodate himself to the shock and confusion that reigned in his mind. The room swirled slightly as he finally climbed back to his feet. His face hurt as he raised his head, looking up at the man, who glared murder back at him. Jameel did not look happy to see him, not in the slightest. The Sparrow felt a twinge of pain in his cheek as the Red Owl flexed the fingers of his still clenched fist; the swelling and bruising had already started to form on his cheek.

"My apologies." The voice that came from the man was stiff and formal, more foreign even than when he was learning Jameel's tongue in Masyaf. "I thought you were another dead Assassin come back to haunt me. What were you doing out there? Putting on a show for the guards?" He took a step forward. Lex retreated, trembling. Jameel grasped his shoulders, forcing him to remain still, even as he shook beneath his hands. Not that the man noticed, giving him a shake of his own. "You need to be more careful, you thrice-damned idiot! Fate does not like to be tempted. You had luck's favor this time, but what about the next?" He let go then, sighing heavily. "Do you have anything to say for yourself at least?"

Lex lowered his head, shaking it once. Jameel gave him another long stare before pushing through the door and out toward daylight. The Sparrow pressed a hand to his cheek slowly, shaking as he followed the path the Red Owl had taken. He froze and reeled back quickly as the figure in red returned, expecting another blow. This time, the face that was revealed by the torchlight was a scarred one.

The Owlet stood there, his scarred and stern face betraying no emotion. He studied the boy called Hakim's face in silence.

"The Night Master said what there was to say. There is nothing I can add"—his eyes flicked to the one side of his face pointedly—"and a further blow will not rid you of the heedless child that is still stuck within you." He saw the Sparrow flinch at his words. They were cold; they would hurt, but that was their purpose. Hopefully, they would wash the foolishness from the other's head. The breathing of the sleeping patients Lex had left was the only sound that filled the high-ceilinged room for several minutes. The swordsman did not point out the promise that had been broken between them; the guilt and pain in the man's eyes was telling him that he didn't need a reminder. "Now, Hakim, since words have been exchanged, there's work to be done."

Lex simply looked at him, as if fixed to the spot. It took him a few tries to be able to nod his head, the one eye watering where it had been pushed half-shut by the swelling in his face. He took a deep breath and nodded again, forcing himself with all his might not to drop to the stones in front of the Owlet's feet and start crying. Finally, he turned and headed back to his last patient, the other following.

His eyes fell on the patients one by one, inspecting the treatment of their hurts. They had been cleaned, bandaged, sewn shut. The place smelled of herbs, seeming more a kitchen than a place of the wounded. He peered at the work the boy was on, careful not to show in his face any admiration of the skillful needlework as he gave the man some stitches. It was quick and seemingly effortless, the man receiving them even glancing over to watch. Finding a place on the wall, he continued to keep a silent vigil over the room.

The sun had almost set when the two entered Orianna's home. He flinched when the woman touched his shoulder, but made no other protests as she led him into a small chamber decorated with herbs, looking like a miniature apothecary. She put a finger to Lex's lips when he opened them to speak.

"Jal and Adara said to tell your their thanks. You have repaid your debts and things are settled between all of us." A low whine escaped the Journeyman as a cool salve was pressed to his cheek and rubbed into his skin. "The pain will go away soon." She looked at the bruise. "This will heal quickly, but the marks will be seen for some time."

He nodded, barely taking any concern in the healing rate of his injured face. Right then, all he wanted was to go back in time again, back to Masyaf, where Jameel had never hit him except in the training ring, or back even further still, back to the place he was born. Lex closed his eyes, letting his mind wander back through the years.

_Sniffling, he made his way to where the foursome sat on the playground blacktop. They were a ragtag little bunch, their skin varying shades of brown. Miguel was the first to see him through his scruffy black bangs. Halim sat next to him, the lightest of the bunch, his face full of freckles. Seth looked up then, blonde hair a sharp contrast with his skin, an ever-present scowl fixed on his face even at that young age. Jake was the one who took him into his arms, tall, long-haired, and pretty to all of them. The young boy explained to them in a mumble how he'd gotten the bruise on his chin, the group watching as Seth set out to "moiderize" the merry-go-round._

"_Passero._" The word brought him back around. He looked up at Rina. The woman felt her heart clench when she saw his face, still guilt-ridden and sad. "Mistakes are made and lessons are learned. None of us has the right to throw the first stone as all of us have failed time and again." She touched his cheek gingerly. "Believe me when I say he did not mean this. I saw the Owl's face when the tidings reached him of your night run. There was more worry in it than anything else." Lex opened his mouth to respond and was cut off by a cheep. His brow furrowed as he searched the rafters and found nothing. Then something small and soft was placed in his hand. He looked down.

A tiny ball of light brown feathers had been settled on his palm.

"Found the little one in my garden a few weeks ago. Keep him as a reminder of your responsibility to those who rely on you." The little sparrow gave him a stare, and for some reason or another it seemed very serious to him.

Lex nodded, tucking the baby bird against his chest and heading upstairs to his room. He froze in the doorway when he saw what lay inside. Instead of Shaun, Jameel was there. His nerveless fingers almost let the little bird fall. Keeping a hold on him, careful not to let his fists close and potentially crush him, he looked around the hall for a sign of anyone else. There was none. Heading inside, he took a cross-legged sit on his small bed, pondering on where the little serious fellow in his hands was going to sleep.

The bird nibbled at his fingers as it took each object in the room into view and seemed to analyze it. Gently, he nudged at the restraining hands with his head, pecking with his tiny beak until he was released. The tiny sparrow hopped onto the pillow that was meant for Lex's head, giving a few satisfied-sounding peeps as he nestled into the soft cushion and regarded his new owner with beady eyes.

_Logic is a little tweeting bird chirping in a meadow,_ Lex thought, managing a little smirk. _Logic is a wreath of pretty flowers that smell bad._

"Oh, you're back." The trio looked up at Shaun as he poked his head around the door. "Yeah, someone's confiscated my area of the room, so I'll be bunking with Badr instead. Who's cheeping? Is Amir in here?"

"Spock." The Brit looked down at the chick on the pillow and snorted.

"Well, then, at least we have one songbird with some sense." He winced as he earned a furious glower from Jameel. _I can never win with this man!_ He sighed and closed the door, retreating from the cold stare. The Red Owl continued to stare a hole into the wood where the Harrier's face had been until his footsteps faded from earshot. Only then did he say, "Have you finished your conversation, little bird?"

"Yeah." Lex nodded, lying down on his side and stroking the bird's head. "Spock told me to think logically so that I'll live long and prosper."

"Wise words. You should take them seriously." Jameel reached out toward him, only to draw his hand away, suppressing the urge to stroke the little back that was turned toward him. "When they told me you'd gone for a night run and that there'd been several injured, I thought I was going to lose you. That the Cubs had laid hands on you again." Silence. He pressed a hand to his eyes for a second before lifting his head. "There has been one thought, one wish, and one consolation that kept me afloat all these years." Another pause. Only their breathing and the ruffling of the bird's feathers as he preened could be heard. Jameel turned onto his side, their backs barely touching. "Don't take from me what keeps me alive." A shiver ran up his spine as the Sparrow shifted, their backs pressed together fully. Slowly, he reached back and took smaller hand in his own, twining their fingers tightly.

"Skandar," Jameel found himself whispering as he blew out the candle that was beside him, his eyes adjusting quickly to the faint light of the moon seeping through the window.

"_Na'am?_" The response was soft; his voice cracked as he spoke.

"_Laila sa'eda._" He heard him nod, felt him shift a little further. He turned as well, looking down at the bruised cheek. Jameel reached up, fingers trembling as he touched the mark gently as he was able. "Skandar."

"Hnn?" His eyes opened, looking at him as his thumb traced circles against the black and blue skin. There was fear in his eyes. The Owl gulped, his heart dropping down to the soles of his feet as he bowed his head and pressed his lips to the mark he'd made.

"_Ahlaam ladida, omri._" He settled back, only their foreheads pressed together, the Sparrow drifting back a nervous state of sleep. _God willing, you'll have sweeter dreams than I, 'usfuri. Rest well. You'll find a surprise waiting for you in the morning._

**Na'am? = Yes?**

**Laila sa'eda = Goodnight.**

**Ahlaam ladida, omri = Sweet dreams, my love and my life.**

**I'll try and have another chapter done before my Morocco trip, God and computer willing. Hope you guys liked this one. You keep reading, I'll keep writing, as always. And if I can't get it done by trip time, I'll get it done when I'm back in mi casa en Granada.**


	14. Vidimus Chapter XII

**Here's the newest chapter before I leave for Morocco. :3 Have fun reading it, guys!**

**AC's characters belong to Ubisoft. Thanks for reviewing, Storm, G, and Tobi, and thanks for your help in writing part of the chapter, Nessa. :3**

Rome, Italy  
January 16, 1500

The little Mouse hurried along the street, the stack of books Orianna had requested clutched tight to his chest. Squirming through the crowds flocking toward the gallows-place to see yet another execution, he managed to find his way halfway back before becoming lost. Groaning, he took another turn, only to have a woman appear from the masses and snatch up one of his hands.

The girl winked and smiled at the monk, earning a few hisses of derision from some of the onlookers who happened to spot them. She stepped through the bodies as if they weren't there to begin with and led the monk to a small cluster of buildings near the outskirts of the city proper rather near where his intended destination was located. Ignacio wracked his brain for answers as he questioned where he'd seen her face before.

They stepped into a small, deserted courtyard tucked away between two buildings and the woman nudged him into one of the half-deserted, tumbledown edifices. Within, a dark-locked man was leaning against a wall, his gaze moving from roof to ceiling, giving a wall to wall inspection of the place as the girl performed a little mocking bow.

"So, Uncle, I found the mouse that had escaped you. May I ask for leave now?" Luca grinned and made a gesture with his head that provoked a little giggle from the girl before she was off, disappearing around the corner.

"Who is she?" the monk asked. "And why've you had me brought all the way out here?" The second question was useless, though it hung in the air between them, his own heated face telling him he knew exactly the reason why he'd been brought to a shack near the little harbor on the river. Ignacio clutched the books like a shield to his chest, his eyes never leaving the taller man, who gazed back at him languidly, as if he now was up for inspection.

_What animal would he be? One that eats mice, he decided. Foxes. Foxes eat mice. Wolves, cats...cats eat mice for a certainty. Some birds of the air eat mice._ He licked his lips; they'd gone dry as the stare continued to be held on him. _The unblinking serpent of the Garden would eat mice nowadays, too, wouldn't he? No, no, he's too much charm for even any snake. A tomcat is what he is. So sure of himself..._

"That was my niece Simza." The answer broke through the haze of his thoughts. "My oldest sister's youngest daughter, if you want to know the details." Luca moved forward, but stopped a few steps short of the smaller man. "And if you want to know what I'm doing here, we're going to set up camp and I am here to inspect the place. What do you think? Humble enough for my little band?" He tilted his head, the coins and trinkets attached to his headband jingling softly in the silence that followed his remarks. "You haven't spoken to me or spared me a glance since..."

He let the words trail off. There was no need to say the rest. It took a moment more for Ignacio to find his tongue.

"I—I've been busy. I've had things to do. It's not all prayers and lighting candles with being a monk." The excuses sounded pitiful even to his ears once he'd voiced them. Ignacio's eyes flicked to the man's headband, watching the light that peeped in through the wooden walls dance along the coins and small, colored beads of what seemed to be glass. His breathing quickened, too loud in the silence of the place. "I—I have been praying, though. For you...for me, for both of us." He licked his lips again, studying some of the wrinkled tops of the pages between the leather covers of the volumes in his arms.

Fingers brushed his chin, lifted it; the air left him as quickly as if he'd taken a blow to the stomach. Another hand slipped into his hair. Their lips pressed together, tongues meshing hungrily.

Gently, Luca took the books from the monk's hands and laid them aside, his dark, rough hands stroking the monk's paler, soft ones. He pulled back as something salty touched his lips, lapping it away with his tongue almost immediately. Releasing his chin, Luca allowed the man to hide his face in his shirt, stroking the monk's heaving back.

Ignacio clutched at his back, whimpering as hot tears slid down his cheeks.

"Do you know what you do to me? Do you?" he babbled, unsure why. "I can't stop thinking about you. I want to know everything about you. When you're not around, I wonder where you are, if you're hurt..." He was panting, his voice choked with the mucus in his throat. "And you have a wife and children and I'm pledged to God and we _cannot_ do this, we _should not_ do this, but we have and we are and..." He hiccupped. "I want to keep doing it. Damn me, damn it all, I want to keep doing it because I can't stand the thought of not being near you!"

By the time he finished his rant, Luca had taken a seat against one wall and was rocking him like he would one of his smaller children. He continued to hold him for a time, saying nothing. When he had finally cleared enough of his nose and throat to breathe properly and wiped off his eyes, Ignacio found himself seated on the low pallet Luca had used as a bed for the last two days.

"Do not worry about my wife. We both are free beings. I accept her ways and so she does mine. Thus, we do not become sour with each other." He pressed a finger to Ignacio's lips when he saw him beginning to speak. "Do not start citing that book I haven't read." His finger drifted to the side, joined by another, tracing over his companion's lips. "I like your tall friend's preachings best of the many I've heard. He said to me on the road that what made this faith of yours special and valuable is that your God is love. And how could a being that consists of love what we are and what we see in each other?"

Inigo looked up into the other man's eyes, then down at the fingers pressed to his lips. The Rom Baro let out a startled sound as he felt the monk's tongue against his fingertips, lips closing over them slowly.

"What are we?" he asked once Luca's fingers were thoroughly wet and the man seemingly breathless, placing kisses along his palm and wrist, following the length of his arm up to his shoulder and neck. "Isn't this a sin?" He gasped as hands grasped his ass, having slipped beneath his robes so stealthily he wouldn't have known they were there had they not touched him. "Are we lost?" He raised his arms automatically as the brown wool was drawn over his head and set aside near his books.

Luca chuckled and, as if reading his thoughts from before, said, "A tomcat playing with a little mouse he holds very dear." He closed his eyes, running his hands along Ignacio's body from feet to legs. "We are what we are. I've tried to live in a way that harms no one. About this sin you talk of, I know nothing." He opened his eyes and took in the sight of the body he'd only touched before, dipping his head to place kisses along his chest. "And lost? No. I know exactly where I am." Fingers clumsily played with his shirt. He helped the Mouse to strip his fur fully, simply tearing it down the middle and tossing it atop his robe. "I am in a place with you and that makes me happy." Their lips locked again, his hands coming up to grasp the monk's face. Inigo made a confused sound when words were whispered against his tingling lips that he didn't catch. "_Stai bene cannella,_" the man repeated before diving in for another taste.

The younger man's eyes traced over Luca's skin along with his fingers, mapping out every ridge and crease on his skin, every hair, connecting the dark dots of the moles on his shoulder blades with imaginary lines, memorizing the taste of him as he took his turn at slipping his tongue into the other's mouth. He grew bold enough to toy a little with the hard, dark nipples he found when passing his hands once more over the Rom Baro's chest. Their arms folded around one another as Luca drew him closer.

Inigo sighed as Luca pressed him back to the wall, his hand slipping between his legs to brush against his length. He needed no coaxing, having gone hard at the first caresses Luca had given him. The man bowed his head down, only to stop, looking up at him, nails teasing him from base to tip as he whispered, "I'll only go as far as my Mouse wishes." He bent and pressed his lips to the soft hair that led down from Inigo's belly. "I can catch you again. I will catch you again." He lifted his gaze briefly. Hearing only sighs, he pressed on, replacing his nails with his tongue, licking around his tip.

Ignacio's back arched out from the wall he'd been pressed to, his breath coming and leaving in gasps. His hands searched for purchase and found it in abundance, squeezing first at Luca's ass, then at his shoulders, one hand shifting to grasp the nape of his neck as the other stole its way into his hair. Luca continued his work slowly, taking in each of the other man's reactions, ready to stop if one word came from the monk. His teeth, tongue, and lips finally found a rhythm after a few minutes, earning sigh after sigh from the Mouse.

"_Ti amo!_" The cry never reached the ceiling of the building, falling back to earth as its owner writhed and bucked. Luca pinned his hips with one hand, working faster over him. "_Luca, ti amo!_"

_This is all for you,_ he thought toward the other man, taking the monk's length too deep into his throat to simply pull back and speak, grasping his thigh with the other hand. _You see now that there's nothing to fear? There's no devil coming to drag you to hell once you let yourself go._

He worked until the end, feeling a familiar shudder pass through Ignacio's frame. Darkness closed over the monk's eyes. When he opened them again, he found himself in the Roma's arms, fingers stroking along his stomach, his nose nuzzled against his cheek.

Lips pressed to his ear, the unfamiliar words whispered into it, as if speaking them aloud would cause them to turn to ash on his tongue, "_Me voliv tu, Inigo._" Ignacio nestled into his arms before turning his gaze toward the abandoned books.

"I said I would bring those to Signora Cavalcanti."

"I'm sure she'll understand if you said you got lost." Luca blinked in a good imitation of Jameel's bird as the little Franciscan twined their fingers over his belly.

"But I'm not lost. I'm here with you."

X x X

"Hakim, I've been wondering whether you were genius or insane since I've met you and now I'm certain," Scars stated as he looked at the vastness that was a part of the miniature harbor on the river Tiber that sprawled before them, "you're without a doubt one hundred percent out of your fucking mind."

The vastness that stretched before them was really only the length of what to Lex was an average swimming pool and just deep enough for proper swimming. The waters were relatively placid so that, on a clear day such as this, if he squinted, he could almost see the suggestion of the bottom in this area. The idea had come up as a way to have some time alone and enjoyment for himself, some relatively easy exercise for the still-healing Owlet, and as a possible moment to try and make up for the promise he'd broken.

When he'd come to Scars with the idea, the swordsman had looked at him with a mix of derision and actual terror.

"You think this will help me heal?" he had asked.

"Yeah, why not? It's helped other people recover from wounds who needed to work out their muscles without putting themselves under too much strain. Why not you?" Lex had responded.

"I cannot swim."

"We can fix that."

And so he had brought him here. And Scars stood rooted to the bank. _If he stays there any longer, he's gonna start feeding through photosynthesis,_ Lex thought as he began to strip out of his robes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not going to swim in my clothes." Lex balled up his robes and tossed them onto a higher part of the bank, a little further up from the water's edge. "C'mon, buddy, strip." He stepped forward, testing the temperature of the proposed pool with his foot. "I don't hear anything coming off, Scars. Seriously, have you turned into a tree? Are you filter-feeding yet? If you are, just say photosynthesis."

"What in God's name are you babbling about?" The Sparrow turned, if only to see the expression on the other young man's face, his own reddening quickly. The man stood before him naked as the day he was born. Broad shouldered and well-muscled in the arms, the Sparrow's eyes traveled down his chest and stomach, which were strong as his arms looked. His legs had been shaped by hours of roof-running and hard riding, not overly muscled but still powerful, he was sure, looser in the thighs than the calves. The time traveler tore his gaze away before he could contemplate the other muscle that hung between his companion's legs, turning back to the water.

"Just that you're a liar."

"What?" The word was a hiss, deadly and venomous.

"You say you can't swim and you look like that? Bullshit!" Lex dove into the water before the Owlet could finish making a grab for him, disappearing beneath the surface. He popped up again a few feet away. "What're you waiting for, Scars? Come get me!" A splash followed his words, then further splashing as the man realized he had nothing below his feet but water and began to sink. Struggling to stay afloat, he thrashed about. For an instant, he panicked further, water filling his mouth.

He hacked it back up as arms wound tight around him, grasping onto whatever held him up. Gulping down lungfuls of air, he heard through the film of water in his ears, "Kick! Kick, stupid, kick! No, kick _rhythmically_! Ow! The water! The water! Kick _the water_ rhythmically, not me!" It was then he realized he'd grabbed onto the person who seconds before had been taunting him.

Lex began to pull away then, as if he too had realized they were chest to chest with one another. He was stopped when Scars' hands gripped tight onto his shoulders, the man's face pale, knuckles white.

"Relax." He took hold of his elbows, breathing hard himself from keeping the both of them afloat. "I've gotcha. Just keep kicking for a while." Whether it was minutes or hours later, Scars couldn't have said, but by then the Sparrow had slipped away from him, swimming circles around him as he stayed in place, treading water. Finally, he said, "You gonna come after me?" Twisting around onto his stomach, he began paddling away. Stretching out his arms in a crude imitation, the Owlet followed after him.

The chase ended abruptly, the two bumping into one another, chest to chest once more. Lex moved back, placing a hand slowly against Scars' back, scooping his legs up as he said, "Lean back on my hand." The other did as told. "Now relax. You're tensed up like a piece of wood." He steadfastly ignored the wooden tension he felt himself as well at the contact with the other man's skin and kept his hands where they were until he felt Scars relax. Carefully, he moved his hands away, letting the water cradle him.

He turned and leaned back himself then, lying back on the water beside the Owlet and holding up his hands to show that he was floating on his own and completely fine. A small smile appeared on his face at the look of surprise the other gave him.

"How's it feel?"

"I haven't drowned so far. Are we going to continue?"

"Yeah. Practice holding your breath." Sucking down a deep one himself, the Sparrow flipped over and onto his back. Scars gave Lex an appraising stare before finally doing likewise. After a few minutes, they flipped back over, both panting. "How come you never learned this before?"

"I never felt the need," said the scarred man, shrugging as well as he was able, still catching his breath. "And I've usually avoided things like this since Templars pushed me into the Quru Chay."

"The what?"

"One of the rivers that cuts through my home town."

"Where's that?"

"Tabriz, in Persia." Scars fell silent, looking up toward the sky. A cloud passed over the sun, raising gooseflesh on his skin. He moved his arms to warm them, watching until the sun returned. "How did you learn to swim?"

"I was put in a pool with my friends as a kid and someone taught us." He dipped his head back until his face was submerged, snorting as he came up and some of the water went up his nose. "How'd you end up in Italy?"

"After the Night Master pulled me from the river, we returned to my home and found it had been destroyed." Scars sat up, finding his feet and moving toward the back. "Majid and I traveled with him then, as he offered us the chance of not only vengeance but a sort of home." He pulled on his pants before dropping to a sit on the bank. Lex sighed as he brought himself to an upright position and followed him, flopping onto his back to let his body and boxers dry. "Where are you from?" Scars asked as he looked down at the smaller male, his eyes traveling to the scar on his chest. They widened slightly, though he said nothing.

"I'm from that way." The Sparrow pointed westward.

"Spain?"

"No, further than Spain."

Scars' lip twitched upward into the faintest of smirks. "Atlantis?"

"Oh my God, did you just make a joke?" Lex laughed, looking around. "How can that be? The earth is still in one piece!" He shook his head. "No, not Atlantis. You heard about the land Columbus discovered, though, right?"

"Yes, and Spain has claimed them rather loudly, or so I learned from the Night Master after he spoke with Columbus. He brought back slaves for the queen." He rolled his eyes and looked back at Lex, watching as he turned over onto his stomach. "The Master drew them." He leaned back slowly, propping his head on his hands as he continued looking at the Sparrow. Dark skinned like them he was, but his hair curled. His nose wasn't as large, instead fine and small. He was smaller than them as well. "You don't look like one of them."

Slowly, keeping an eye on his wound, he turned onto his stomach as well, their elbows brushing as he propped his chin on his arms. The Sparrow looked up at the sudden contact, but didn't pull away. Hesitantly, he reached out with one arm and slipped it around Husam's back. The Owlet lifted his head from his chin, but said nothing, returning the gesture and allowing the smaller man to draw closer until they rested side by side.

Nearby, a large monk sat watching. Uberto had been there for a time, having been drawn by curiosity. Although, as he sat watching the young men in the water, he began to think of someone else entirely. _What can I do, though? I have nothing to offer._ His thoughts were interrupted then as the object of his brooding appeared before his eyes, a smile lighting up his face.

"I greet thee, Bear," said Orianna, giving back the smile as she neared him. "Watching our little birds playing in the water?"

"Yes. What are you planning to do, going with such a heavy burden on your arm?" Uberto gestured to the little basket that was slung across one of the woman's arms. The dark wood contrasted with the dark green of her dress, giving further light to her bright eyes.

"I go to market. We need a few more herbs for my kitchen and Jameel has asked me to buy some fabric for him."

"Fabric? What for?"

"You will see soon enough." She laughed. "I daren't tell you, lest someone else overhear."

"Ah, but who wouldn't listen to such a merry sound as your voice, _usignolo_?" A flush crept up the woman's cheeks at the words. Seizing upon the opportunity, the Bear added, "Might I accompany you?"

"It is kind of you to offer, _mio orso_, but I do not want to take up your time with so trivial a task." She touched his hand briefly. "Besides, there is your reputation to consider. You are a holy man and being seen with me... I do not want you to suffer for my own reputation. You understand?" She looked at him for a long moment before slipping away. Uberto's eyes followed her across the bridge. Another man in brown met her on the opposite side. They stopped, spoke a few words, and she continued on, now with books in her arms as Inigo made his way to where the Bear sat. The little Mouse's lengthening hair looked rumpled, his robes hanging crooked on his shoulders, belt loose. The smile on his face turned to a look of confusion as he regarded his friend.

"Uberto, is something the matter?"

"No, no, nothing, Inigo."

"Please, I can tell it's something by now. Whose skirt weren't you able to look up?"

"Would you believe me if I say I've lost my taste for chasing so many skirts?" The young man lifted a brow as he pressed a hand to the other monk's forehead to see if he was truly feeling all that well.

X x X

"Rina!" Shaun waved at the woman as he tried to wade through a sea of old women haggling over the price of fish. "Rina!" Squeezing through, he snatched his purse back from one of the women with a sharp, "Give me that, you biddy!"

"Shaun, would you like my help?" the courtesan laughed.

"No, no, these bloody crusty dragons won't do me any harm. But, as a matter of fact, I did come to ask your advice about something." The woman nodded, turning quickly to pay the merchant for the cloth she'd purchased. "I was wondering if you had any advice for me about, well, Badr."

"Badr?"

"Yeah, well, I'm new at this Assassin courtship business, y'know? I don't exactly know how I'm supposed to go about it. How does one show affection for his type?" He passed a hand through his hair. "I heard what you told Lex about your husband." She lowered her head slightly. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing to be sorry over, my friend."

"In that case, might I ask how he showed you he loved you?"

Orianna smiled, laughing softly at the memory.

"He threw me out of a building from the third story window into a haystack." Shaun's eyes widened; he gulped visibly.

"What did you do then?"

"Well, I almost poisoned him with nightshade." She chuckled. "For God's sake, man, you British are tough when it comes to poison!"

"Oh, he was one too? And despite all this, you two still married? Bad teeth, dashing good looks, resistance to poison, and window-tossing included?"

The woman was positively grinning as she said, "Yes, after he chased me through half the country."

Shaun nodded and headed off, threading through the streets and finally finding his way to where Fajera was stabled with Nasira. He found the man he was looking for on the roof of the stables.

"Hello, Badr. You're looking good as always."

"Don't lie, Novice. It doesn't become you," the Arab stated, smirking. "But what is it you want? You can't have come up here only to tell me that."

"You're right. I actually wanted to tell you something rather important." Hearing this, Badr stood, moving over to where he'd heard Shaun speaking last.

"Well, what is it?" The blind Assassin sucked in his breath sharply as he was pushed backward, falling through the hole in the roof and into the hay below. Shaun made the short jump down and landed beside him.

"_Ana uhibook._"

"I know." The historian grunted as he was pinned down by the horseman's weight, the sash from Badr's waist binding his hands over his head. "And your accent is terrible." Shaun shivered as the other's hands passed over his face, his head cocked to one side, skin rasping against the stubble on his jaw, before lips crushed his own.

X x X

"Gilberto." A man entered the room at the newly christened Volpe Adormentata inn, taking a seat in the back room. La Volpe looked up at him from his drink, eyes half-lidded.

"Niccolo." Niccolo Machiavelli nodded. "Care for a drink?"

"No. I've little knowledge of what exactly you put in them."

"Alcohol, of course," said a third voice, the hooded man taking a seat. A week's growth of beard covered his jaw, but for where a scar slashed through his lip on the right side. "And grapes. Volpe. Machiavelli. What can you tell me of the goings on in Roma?"

"Well, Ezio," Machiavelli said, leaning forward on an arm, "wouldn't you like to know that we have more allies here than you might think?"

X x X

"Skandar." The Sparrow jerked his head up from where he sat feeding Spock, too quickly for the Owl's liking, though he didn't blame him. Jameel stood in the doorway, one hand upon it, looking down at where he sat cross-legged on his small bed.

"What is it?" Jameel raised his other hand, holding up a blindfold. "Blind fighting?"

"Not quite." The younger man flinched as he moved forward quickly. Jameel slowed as he moved behind him, tying the blindfold on, carefully freeing a few strands of hair that had become caught in the fabric before tightening the knot. "It's a surprise."

"Am I going to like the surprise?"

"Perhaps." Taking him by the arm, he helped the Sparrow to stand. Spock gave him an annoyed look as he was set down on the pillow, but settled into wait for the human's return. Slipping his hand down to the Journeyman's, Jameel clasped it tightly, whispering to guide him down the steps before leading him through the streets. The Red Owl couldn't help smile when, after a few minutes of walking, their fingers laced together.

"Are we there yet?" Try through he might, Lex couldn't keep the tinge of excitement from his voice. His heart was beating double time as he was once more guided up a set of stairs. Jameel placed his hands on his shoulders, stopping him as he undid the blindfold, kissing his head. Lex opened his eyes.

He was in an unfamiliar building, but below the small balcony he stood on he could see a room full of people dressed in white and black robes.

"You'd be surprised how unfashionable gray is considered these days." Jameel leaned against the doorway they'd come through, rolling his eyes. Lex looked over at him.

"Who are they?"

"Our newly recruited Novices. And some of them, at least, will be yours."

**Stai bene cannella = You're fine cinnamon.**

**Ti amo! = I love you!**

**Me voliv tu, Inigo = I love you, Inigo.**

**Usignolo = Nightingale**

**Mio orso = My bear**

**Ana uhibook = I love you.**

**Feel free to correct me if I got any of the languages wrong, as none of them are my first. As always, thank you all for reading, and if you keep doing so, I'll keep writing. Another chapter may be up in about a week. :3**


	15. Vidimus Chapter XIII

**Happy Easter. :3 Have a chapter.**

**The charas that are AC's belong to Ubisoft. The rest belong to me or Nessa or Krono.**

**Thanks to Tobi, Sam, and Storm for reviewing.**

Rome, Italy  
Mid-January to Beginning of February

"So, who out of all of these people will be my Novices?"

"That, my little bird, is for you to decide."

"And how do you expect me to do that? There's gotta be, what, thirty people down there?"

"Well, little Journeyman, if you want an order, think of some method for how to choose your Novices from among them. At the start, all of them might be yours, or none of them." Jameel leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. A slight smirk turned one corner of his lips upward. "I can give you one bit of advice on strategy: perhaps you should teach them your skills with medicine, if they're willing to attend, and your first lesson should be at least in an hour." Reaching over, he gave the Sparrow's shoulder a quick pat. "Good luck." Lex followed after him as he made to leave, stumbling as his feet met a sharply descending set of stairs to the streets.

"Jameel, what are you talking about? Jameel! Where the fuck am I supposed to get a corpse in an hour?!" As if in answer, one dropped to the ground before him, an arrow in its back. The young man looked up at the archer who stood on the roof above him.

"Will that do?" Scars asked, giving him a half smile. The poor fellow had been met by one of the night patrols Jameel had created to guard the boundaries of what little territory they held. He had wondered why the Night Master had asked him then to drag the corpse along, but now his curiosity had been satisfied. Lex jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder, whirling around. Rina held up her free hand, the other loaded with books.

"My apologies, _passero_. Didn't mean to startle you." She held up the books, which to Lex seemed to fit the definite of tomes to a T, and said, "I will help you with your preparations. These manuscripts should aid in your lessons, as well as those the monks have planned, and I have bought enough spiritus to conserve the remains." Lex took the books, almost falling and eating some of the paving stones, as Rina gestured to the corpse Scars had offered. "The Templars would soon run out of employees if you kept gathering fresh ones for teaching material."

"And I'd be out of arrows," the Owlet added as he hopped down to stand next to the two.

"Speaking of you, I need to check your stitches." Scars looked at him sideways.

"I haven't torn them, Hakim."

"Let's sit your ass down so I can check them anyway, okay, Red Arrow?" The Owlet snorted but found a place on a low wall as the Sparrow lifted his tunic and cut away the bandage around his middle. While this was being done, Orianna waved to two of the other Owlets, the group, having received the summons from their master, quickly making themselves a presence among the collected rabble as higher-ranked keepers of order. Seeing the woman calling to them, they hesitated, not used to taking orders from a female. One glare from the swordsman on the wall sent them scurry to her aid. Orianna gave him a thankful nod and hurried after the two bearing the corpse, seeing Uberto was nearing.

Uberto sighed as he neared where Lex and Scars were seated, looking at the two.

"She's been avoiding me all day."

"Have you thrown her out a window?" The two gawked at him. "Shaun said her late husband did that. Haystack was there to break the fall, of course."

The Bear gave Lex a weak smile.

"Well, suppose I should tell you that Inigo and I will be helping you with teaching. Inigo will teach those who can read and write, trying to make the familiar with other languages, and I will teach those who never got any schooling of that kind." Ignacio, who'd arrived shortly after Uberto, gave his friend a worried look.

"Relax, Uberto. You got dibs, man."

"I have what?" Uberto frowned.

"Dibs. Y'know, a claim? Rights?" Lex patted Scars side to tell him to pull his robes back down. "You don't exactly have to fight a dead man to ask if Rina wants to be your girlfriend is what I'm saying." He looked up at the monk. "And smile, man. It's weird seeing you like this. You're not Bruce Wayne." Giving the monk a slim smile of his own, he stood with the swordsman and headed to where Ignacio stood.

The Mouse shook his head, listening to the Sparrow. He looked toward the tall monk. Uberto had always helped him. When his father had sent him to join the army's ranks to make a real man of him, he had taken him under his wing and trained him. They fought side by side, knee-deep in the horrors of battle. When the nightmares shook him from his sleep after so many weeks, he was there as well, and when they finally were allowed to lay their weapons down for a time, he helped him find some peace within the walls of their monastery. But now that the time came for him to help his friend, he couldn't summon any words to his tongue. He sighed as he saw the monk following them, tugging Lex's and Scars' sleeves to get them to follow to the room that had been prepared for their first lesson.

Ignacio had begun to explain what all was in the room they were headed toward when the group stopped, hearing an ominous crackling noise. Scars' eyes widened as he grabbed the two younger men and hauled them back, a shower of debris and dust falling to the floor before them. The dumbstruck group could just make out the lumpy form of a boy, who had begun laughing, as the dust settled.

"That went better than I'd expected!" he said to no one in particular. "Wish I'd fallen a bit to the right, though."

"Who is it?" Lex looked up at Shaun, who was peering around the doorway, looking as confused as the rest of them.

"For now, he's the mailman."

"Postman. Right. Shoot the bastard clean through for me, will you?" the Brit asked as he took off his glasses to clean the lenses on his robes.

The teen who'd fallen through the roof coughed and looked up at the others.

"Um...am I allowed up for a second?" he chuckled. Scars rolled his eyes as he lowered his hands from the other young men's arms.

"Who are you?" he demanded. The boy chuckled again, smiling as Lex reached out a hand to help him up. The Assassins' eyes widened when the Sparrow was pinned to the wall, his arm pressed against his back, a knife to his throat.

"My name is Giacomo Cacciatore. I'm an Assassin. Seems you are too." On hearing the boy's name, the Sparrow's face drained of all color, his bones turning to water. Scars was the first to react, the bold Cacciatore pinned to the dusty floor a split second later, a sharp sword at his throat and a highly angered Owlet kneeling over him.

"You deem yourself a brother among us, yet turn down a hand offered to you and put your knife to another's throat instead!"

"He was an unknown threat," the Novice spat, "so I reacted!" Scars glowered at him, then glanced over his shoulder at where the young doctor sat slumped against the wall. "Hakim?" Giacomo began to struggle beneath the Owlet's grip.

"Son of a bitch! Get off of me!" The sword pressed down harder on his bobbing Adam's apple.

"Quite the little mouth on him, hasn't he?" Shaun asked, looking down at the teen with an expression caught warring with itself over whether to be amused or not. "You all right over there, Sparrah?" The Journeyman was still where he'd fallen to a sit against the wall, his eyes fixed on the Cacciatore boy as if he was some sort of viper. No answer came to Shaun's question as Scars stood and lifted the boy to his feet. His grip never loosened, the look he gave Giacomo one of pure venom.

With a flick of his wrist, the Owlet had the Novice disarmed, though not without him protesting loudly about the taking of his father's precious blade.

"You can have it back once you've learned to distinguish a threat from a benevolent action, Novice."

"Don't do anything to my sword!"

"We won't do anything to your dinky little knife, Novice," Shaun growled. Giacomo looked at him, then glowered at the scarred man.

"So, what do I need to do for you to let me go?" He pointed to Lex. "Make him almost faint again?" His feet left the dusty ground then, his eyes level with Scars'.

"Trespass against the Creed or al Hakim and it will be a pleasure for me to end your career." The Owlet released him with a none-too-gentle shove before turning back to the Sparrow. Ignacio had already leaned down and was just then placing a hand on the other's shoulder. He broke out of his stupor with a yell and bolted to his feet. Scars gripped him by the shoulders, giving them a squeeze. He nodded to Ignacio, who took Lex by the arm, and looked at Giacomo. "And to answer your question, keeping your trap shut would be a good first step, Cacciatore, and knowing as well that that name is not too well cherished here. Perhaps heading to the others and trying to at least pretend to act like a decent Novice would serve you well. Now fuck off, before I change my mind about allowing you to leave." Both men led the Sparrow into the adjacent room Shaun had left, but not without Scars stopping to give an order to a by-standing Owlet. _If that Novice tries anything,_ he thought as he took a seat beside his friend, _the first shot will silence him._

"Thanks," said Lex, still staring into space, trying to calm himself. _It's just a name. He's not related to_ her_. It's just a coincidence._ He glanced down at the clack of claws on wood, smoothing Spock's feathers as he tried to bring the roiling ball of cold in his guts back under control. The little bird chirped at him as Shaun took a seat on his other side and put a hand on his back.

"Calm down, Lex." The smaller Assassin looked at him. "The Lion's daughter didn't eat your face when she met you, did she?" He shook his head. "Nice lass, for having such a monster for a father, am I right?" He nodded. "Well, then, though the douchebaggery does seem to run in the Cacciatore bloodline, you would say that even that numpty deserves a chance, right?" Scars raised an eyebrow at Shaun's choice of words, but held his peace. Lex eventually nodded, however stiffly. The Owlet nodded, almost to himself, as he turned his gaze to the doorway.

Outside of the room, Uberto was inspecting the debris and the hole. He turned his gaze away when he saw Orianna picking up some parchment that had fallen from her arms when the Novice had chosen to drop in on them.

Before he could open his mouth to speak to her, a "Cheep!" came from above him. Uberto looked up to see Amir crouched on the edge of the hole. "Hi! I'm back! Papa Luca said I could climb on the roof." The monk shook his head and warned the boy to be careful as he picked his way over to the Nightingale.

"Do you need any help?"

The woman looked up from the writings, a little confused to see the monk standing so close to her. Her fingers played with the scarf that covered her long black hair, pushing some errant strands back into place. She studied Uberto's face, wondering how old he must be and what the man must have seen in his life for his face to bear such lines of worry, although now only the fine wrinkles that were caused by laughter were seen. She couldn't help answering the smile he was giving her with one of her own.

"If you would be so kind and help me save my books? It would be a shame if any of them were to be destroyed." Uberto set to the task, digging the tomes from the rubble. Soon all were back in their arms and, thus laden, they both made their way to the main hall of the building, passing the waiting group of Novices, listening as they went to the bevy of tongues echoing in the room.

Orianna went directly into the small room she had taken for herself, half library and half alchemical laboratory. She turned to Uberto and bowed her head. "_Grazie, orso mio._ Welcome to my little refuge. If you should ever need a place to seek a little rest, feel free to find it here."

"My thanks, _usignolo_." Uberto took a seat and studied Orianna in his turn, the voices from the other room pouring over his ears. Her usual pale skin had become an almost deathly pallor. Her fingers clenched and twirled the gold ring she wore on a chain around her neck. She started as a rough hand touched her cheek. "Are you well, Rina?" The woman nodded, barely resisting the urge to lean against the hand. The Bear stroked her cheek gently, looking her over carefully to make sure she wasn't about to faint.

"Just memories, _orso mio_," she said softly. Uberto nodded, carefully putting his arms around the woman and drawing her to his chest. Orianna sighed a little but gladly allowed the Bear to tighten his hug. She wasn't sure how long they sat this way, but the coal tits cheeping outside made her remember there was a world outside of them. Her hand reached up, stroking the bristled cheek before she carefully placed a kiss on it. Her other hand squeezed the one holding her up. "Come, Bear, the young ones are waiting."

"Yes," Uberto murmured, pecking her cheek in return, "we must make sure no one's killed that Novice." As if on cue from his words, he heard a shout outside the room. Sighing, he shook his head and went to see what was the cause of the commotion, the woman at his side. The brighter light blinded Rina for a moment. She shielded her eyes with a hand, squinting as her vision adjusted.

"Amir, get off him already!" Lex shouted, trying and failing to pull Amir from atop Giacomo. As soon as the Coal Tit had heard what the upstart Novice had done, he had gone on the warpath.

"No! His mother's that bitch! I'm gonna kill him!" Amir shouted in response. Scars tipped the balance in Lex's favor, looping his arms around the Sparrow's middle and helping to haul the Coal Tit off the Novice while the rest looked on. The three Assassins landed in a heap on the ground.

Scars helped Lex up, trying to keep Amir by the scruff, but he twisted, squirmed, and finally tore loose. Before he could finish pouncing on Giacomo to continue his attack, the man lying where he'd fallen, more than stunned to be assaulted by what to him looked like a ten-year-old, Uberto had taken hold of him and slung the white-robed Coal Tit across his shoulder.

Lex looked up at the monk and nodded his thanks before falling into Arabic, "Enough, Amir."

"No! He hurt you!"

"He tried, but he didn't hurt me. Scars made sure of that. Now calm down." Amir whined and folded his arms over his tiny chest as well as he could in his current position. Uberto looked at Rina, who looked back at him. The man handed the upset little boy over to her. The Nightingale hurried off with him, attempting to calm Amir's protesting cheeps. The monk then helped the rumpled Novice to his feet, which earned him nothing but a glare.

"If that woman cannot control that little bastard of hers—" Giacomo began, but got no farther before the monk's fist sent him flying back down again.

One of the assembled Novices broke into raucous laughter that Lex found himself laughing along with. Even Scars snorted and shook his head at the way the boy's big mouth had run him right into trouble, one of his companion's levering the fallen one to his feet. Taking Uberto by the arm, the Owlet nodded to his companions, who disappeared into the crowd. Turning his gaze to the Novices, the red-clad man said, "All of you who would wish to know the arts of healing, go down this hall. It's the first door on your left."

Shaun, who'd watched the Novice all but walk into Uberto's fist, gave the monk an appreciative nod as he passed.

"Never seen a holy man haul off and cold-cock a little shite like that. You've got a strong left, I've got to say." Uberto made no comment, only sighing and heading to the infirmary to make sure he hadn't caved the boy's face in.

Curiously, the crowd of about thirty men and women made their way to the lecture hall that had been set up in the room. One of them, a tall figure almost of a height with the Night Master, his skin dark as the other man's, but clad in the robes given new recruits, his hair blonde and in a long braid down his back, a beard on his face, waited outside the door for a few minutes. Not seeing what he expected, he shook his head and followed the others in. He raised a brow and sighed to see that only a few seats in the front were unoccupied. In order not to block the view of those behind him, he took a seat on the floor. Hearing a soft noise, he looked toward the window on his left and smiled.

"Time to show yourself, you crazy Scottish seagull." A dark-headed man with equally dark stubble lining his jaw and upper lip peered in through the window and winked at him. Climbing in, he took a seat next to the other man in one of the provided seats, using his brother's head as an armrest.

The scarred man gave the pair of men a long stare before he cleared his throat and said, "Your other instructor will be here shortly. I assume all of you have seen what happens when Novices decide to open their mouths without thinking first; Giacomo learned this the hard way, though I doubt the lot of you can beat him for a certain level of stupidity." A few snickers were heard from some of the Novices. "Now, if you'll have some patience, we'll begin shortly." The Owlet tried to keep his eyes forward, but eventually looked over the rabble: a good few women, some men, and the two in the front.

The dark-headed man hummed a little tune while he let his thoughts wander. The mixture of languages about them reminded him of the harbor he'd grown up in.

"What do ye think, brother dear? What will we have to expect?" he asked, his Italian accented with a heavy Scottish brogue. His brother sighed, giving him a little slap on the head.

"Just hope we can stay a little longer here this time. So ask me before you start selling your drawings." All heads turned as the door to the room opened. The monk that had punched the Novice unconscious came in, carrying what looked like a huge chest that smelled strongly of alcohol.

"Love the smell of formaldehyde in the morning," Lex murmured to Rina where they stood down the hall. The woman gave him a confused look. "Never mind." They watched Uberto exit, having set the chest down inside the room. The young man waited a moment, gathering his courage. This, he felt, would be worse than facing an army of Templars.

"I am sure you will be a good teacher, _Passero_." Rina gave him an encouraging smile. "The word spread that you saved four moribund brethren. And don't worry over the one that fell through the roof. He will not leave the infirmary too soon." Lex nodded and pocketed his hands.

Footsteps came down the hall, the tread of someone deliberately taking their time about getting somewhere. The door was shoved open. The students braced themselves.

In strolled what everyone assembled least expected: he seemed a Genoan-dressed Turk. A loose-fitting, black cotton tunic hung to his waist, the worn blue-white denim pants peering out from under it. On his feet were the boots of an Assassin, an Assassin's belt slung on his hips, his robes hanging open in almost cloak-like fashion. The boy, or beardless youth—surely this was no man—seemed lost in thought.

He spoke absently, "I wonder, could you tell me something, any of you?" He cocked his head, much like a little bird, and looked at them. "Nothing being true and everything being permitted, is life worth affirming or denying?"

The dark haired man threw his brother a questioning glance and whispered, "Tis rhetorical?" The blonde paid the Scot no mind. This was not what he'd expected. _They send us a boy hardly having come of age to be called a man to instruct us?_ he wondered, but even as he watched him, he knew there was something not boyish at all about this person. There was a certain attitude about him, he felt, on his second look, which made him appear so much older than he was, as if he'd already lived more than one life.

"Sending us a boy to teach us Assassins' work," the Scot groaned in English, looking ceilingward, then to his brother. He added just loudly enough for the boy to hear, "The Lord tells me we are pretty much fucked." The other felt the strong urge to smack him again, but restrained it in order to glance at the rest of the audience. Most of the new recruits seemed to be thinking what the Scot had muttered, remaining silent to the question their appointed mentor had asked. He closed his eyes in thought. _Quite a difficult question. Our task is to save as many as possible by bringing death to a few. So both keeping and destroying life is what we're meant to do._

"I like this guy." The words cut off his musings; he opened his eyes to find the boy pointing to his brother and chuckling. "_Alba gu bra_, my friend. Well, since the ice's officially been broken with that lovely comment, let's get some introductions out of the way. I'd also like to know what you guys already know about the human body. Braveheart, you first."

The Scot went from smiling broadly at the boy's speaking his mother tongue—any man who spoke the tongue of his homeland had to be a good man—to beaming at the name he was given.

"The name is Stephen of Firth," he said, his accent while speaking English even stronger than Shaun's. "I have seen enough people gutted, so I know roughly what's inside of 'em, but I wouldn't have the faintest idea how to put it back again." The man being used as an armrest suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, reaching up to brush back a strand of hair that had come out of his braid. Lex's eyes flicked to his wrist where the outline of a tattoo could be seen, the faintest beginnings of a peregrine falcon.

The blonde man cleared his throat and spoke in Italian, "Roland Schifferson of Bremen. I can patch somebody up when necessary, but the more complicated operations I've always left to others." The boy stared at him long and hard, his head tilted to one side, eyes almost squinted shut.

"_Ich kenne die Falken von Bremen. Gilbert und Tancred waren meine Freunde._" Roland nodded dumbly, wondering how the boy could possibly have known his mother's father or his own uncle. There was no time to ask, however, as the boy had already moved on to the next person.

"My name is Elena dei Fieschi," said the girl, who looked to be about as young as the one who'd pointed to her. She wore a ragged brown shirt with a longer, lighter one beneath it along with gray pants and brown boots, her long black hair tied back from her dark face. Stephen and Roland watched as she spoke, her face reddening at the cheeks and ears. "I only know how to treat stabs and cuts, and of those the shallower ones."

"How are you allowed to teach," one of the others piped up, "if you are not a Master?" The boy looked up at the speaker, one whose Italian was fluent. His skin was paler than most of the others, his eyes half-lidded in boredom or distain. "Why are we supposed to listen to a mere boy?"

"Well," said the Sparrow, "here you're going to make a decision about that question I asked before. You'll have to decide whether this profession you've chosen is worth the answer."

"I came here to use my sword on those Templar bastards, not be treated like a schoolboy."

"What's your name?"

"Hercole Aquino." The boy strode toward him, hands in his pockets. He circled his seat slowly, the other students' eyes on him.

"Hercole Aquino. Hercole Aquino. To train the body, you must train the mind, and vice versa." He looked at the other man. "From the way you talk, Signore Aquino, I doubt you've had much training in the one department." He rapped his knuckles on Hercole's head and walked back up to the front of the room. "Hollow as a drum, my friends."

Laughter filled the room. Hercole crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the Sparrow's back. _That small Turk's going to pay for that!_ "Which brings us to our first lesson. Where, oh, where in the human body does everything go? Uberto, Rina, please reveal what's inside chest number one?" The scent of alcohol filled the room as the two opened the chest, revealing the preserved corpse and its accompanying organs. Lex looked at the class, who sat slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Clearing his throat, he prompted lightly, "This is where you guys start taking notes."

Orianna couldn't help smiling a bit when she saw the looks on the students' faces. Nico had told her that Leonardo had said Ezio's face looked the same way when he discovered what the polymath was doing with the corpses in the back of his workshop. Most of the recruits seemed to be adjusting nicely to the situation, becoming more curious instead of pallid. At least no one had gotten sick so far.

The Nightingale placed the prepared organs on the desk so that everybody could see them. Lex picked up one of the organs and held it aloft.

"This is a heart. Located left of center in your chest. It does this." He squeezed and released his fingertips, making it pump. A little blood squished out. He saw Scars make a face in the corner of his eye. "But most of you would know this if you put a hand to your chest." He watched as a few members of the class did so. "Here, pass it around, ask some questions." He handed it to Stephen, who seemed the least squeamish of the up-front people. The Novice pointed to one side of the organ and looked at Lex questioningly. "That's the left ventricle. The other one's the right." The Scot stuck his finger through the flap atop the ventricle and giggled.

Lex turned back to grab a section of intestine, having to double take as he saw that Stephen was making as if to chomp down on the heart like an apple. "Get that away from your mouth!" This time Roland couldn't help grinning.

"Missing your beloved haggis, aren't you?" he asked as he took the organ in hand. _How frail this looks,_ he thought as he turned it around on his palm. _One stab and the owner is gone._ He passed it on to the girl beside them, giving her a small smile before he turned his gaze back on his brother. Stephen was glancing from the black haired woman assisting their teacher to the remaining lengths of guts on the desk. "No, you won't ask anyone of them if they will allow you to read the future from the bowels. You know what happened the last time you asked that to a _living_ Templar. It got very messy for both of us." Stephen pouted and gave him an I-didn't-even-do-anything-yet look.

Once the innards had circulated the room, the Sparrow said, "All right, last lesson for the day. Let's see if you all know your slaughtered Templars." Shaun leaned into the room then, waving his hand frantically. "Yes, British person?"

"I doubt any of us knows which this bloke is. Haven't seen any of the lot of 'em that look as good as him." Another smattering of laughter broke out among the Novices. Lex rolled his eyes as Badr dragged Shaun off by the back of his shirt. The students were then called up to set to work on Build Your Own Templar. Most of them placed the organs back in surprisingly correctly. Whether this was done more by luck or knowledge, the Sparrow wasn't quite sure, but he was glad to only have to make minor corrections here and there. After the others had stepped aside to wash their hands in the bowl Rina provided, Stephen moved up with Roland and the man's brain.

He looked at the brain, then at the Sparrow and Roland.

"Does he really need this back? Templar didn't make much use of it anyway, so won't he be fine without it now?"

"Yes," Lex laughed, "you have to give his brain back." The Novice sighed and reluctantly plunked the brain back into its cavity in the dead man's skull. "All right, before you all leave, time to make you hate me. Assignment number one: think of any questions and bring them either to me or Rina. She can help you with poisons, herbs, and feminine problems and I'll help you with most anything else. If I don't know something, I'll refer you to our friend Nico Valez. Okay? Okay."

"Ooh! I have one!" Stephen thrust his hand up into the air. The Sparrow laughed again and nodded. "What's your name, lad?" The Assassin gave a little wince as he watched Roland's face meet his palm.

"Lex. My name's Lex. Thanks for asking." A hand reached down and ruffled his hair then, causing him to sputter.

"A little later we'll meet again, eh, wee Sawney?"

Sighing, Roland added over his shoulder as he followed his brother to the door, "Forgive him, _sayyid_. Authority and my brother are things that don't mix well."

The Sparrow followed them out, Spock on his shoulder. He couldn't say what made him do it, other than a strong desire simply to do it.

Some of the new Novices had gathered around a training ring, which he realized from the faint smell of damp earth in the air was either belowground or near water, or both. The bolder Novice, Hercole, was in the ring fighting against a smaller, thinner opponent. The fight wasn't going to last long, the Journeyman could see, the smaller's stamina already flagging. The smaller was quick, evading most of the blows, but eventually her strength wore down and his fist met her face, knocking her onto her back. Her hood fell back, revealing the dark haired girl from his class.

"That's all? Ha! It's a wonder those stab wounds you talked about weren't all yours!" Hercole jeered.

"You want some of them to be yours?" The crowd parted, allowing Lex through to the edge of the training ring. He hopped the fence and waited as the Novice walked over to him.

"I could take you, _teacher_"—he spat the word—"and bend you over my knee where you stand." He looked up at the others. "Who else wants a Turkish rug for their sleeping quarters?" Lex reached up and wiped the spittle from his face.

"Go ahead. Do it. Let's see if you can."

Before the Novice could raise a hand, he felt a tap on his left shoulder. Turning, he said, "What do you want, asshole?" The rest of the words died in his throat as he came face to face with the Scotsman from the class, who was giving him a manic grin, which matched that of the bleached-white skull he was holding perfectly.

"Just wondering if you'd be interested in knowing that future of yours? Me is pretty good in reading intestines." The Novice let loose a scream then fit to raise the rest of the skeleton to join the skull Stephen held, or at least deafen half the audience. While the idiot screamed, the blonde German helped the girl up and motioned for her to stand aside. He then turned to Hercole.

"Had your fun, didn't you? See if you can get along in a fight with someone who's more your height." Hercole clamped his mouth shut, looking between the three men. Finally, he strode to Roland and threw a straight punch at him. The German blocked it, lifted him up, and tossed him bodily into the crowd beyond the fence. Roland popped his neck and went toward him again. The Novice scrambled up, screaming, "Get these madmen away from me!"

The Sparrow watched him run toward the infirmary door before he turned to the other three. They were busily munching away on some apples, which Stephen explained as having been borrowed, since no one's name was on them to claim ownership. Leaning on the fence after being handed a fruit of his own, Lex intoned, " 'Alas, poor York, I knew him well,' or am I mistaken with this fine gentleman?"

Stephen grinned and lifted the skull.

"Old William told me the wee fledgling needed to learn another lesson today. And since you occupied us that whole time today, thought humble me could learn him."

"Old William is the reason he isn't on that island over the sea anymore," Roland added with a laugh. "He was some soldier who messed with him."

Stephen nodded. "But we have become friends over the years, ol' Willy and me. We sometimes have our arguments, but we get along well." The skull disappeared into the bag slung over the Scot's shoulder. Spock chirped and tugged at some of Lex's hair, flapping his wings as Uva landed on the bag, tugging at the string.

"Hakim." Lex looked over to where Scars stood. "The Night Master would like a word with us."

**Ich kenne die Falken von Bremen. Gilbert und Tancred waren meine Freunde. = I know the Falcons of Bremen. Gilbert and Tancred were my friends.**


	16. Vidimus Chapter XIV

**Thanks to Tobi, Smeggi (and her Nutella), and Liz for reviewing. Liz, I hope you're happy with Dianna.**

**AC's chara's belong to Ubisoft.**

Rome, Italy  
February to April, 1500

"Kings' Corner? Slap Jack? Bullshit? What'll it be, people?" The Sparrow's hands flew through mixing the cards, shuffling, cutting, stacking, and shuffling again. The shy female Novice that had joined the two brothers when they invited her for a game of cards tilted her head.

"There are many strange games in the region you come from, _maestro_. Never heard of any of these."

"Kings' Corner's basically like Solitaire in how you set it up; the goal's to be the first to get rid of all your cards. Slap Jack's what the name implies; the goal's to collect the most cards. Bullshit is... Well, it's not that complicated. It's a game for good liars and you have to get rid of all your cards without being called on a lie." Lex grinned and was about to say more, but broke off as a low sigh came from Scars' seat at the table. He looked over at the man. Scars sat low in his chair, both Uva and Spock making nests out of his robes on either of his shoulders. His eyes were fixed on the skull that lay in the middle of the table when they weren't flicking to Roland and Stephen, who were quarreling animatedly about something or other. Spock fluffed and cheeped at the low German spoken by the men as he went to work on preening the downy fluff beneath one wing. "You okay, Scars?"

The glare the Owlet shot him made him flinch, but he said nothing more than, "A headache, Hakim. You might have one too, stuck between two roosting fowl and that noise your Novices are making." He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with thumb and forefinger. Socializing had never been his strongest suit, much less with two people arguing nearby, but he'd found he couldn't refuse the Sparrow's request when he'd asked for him to come and join them at a game.

Elena smiled over at their teacher, diffusing some of the tension between the two.

"That last one sounds familiar to me. We play it a little different, but that set of rules sounds interesting." Roland agreed, as did Stephen, who was busily munching on another borrowed apple.

"Bullshit it is then." Lex dealt out five cards to each of them. Taking up his own, his eyes widened. "Um..." _Okay, so this is_ not _the standard deck of fifty-two we're playing with here._ Swallowing, he decided to start out. "Two of cups?"

Elena had to explain to Lex the strange new cards after they'd played through the first round, but the Sparrow learned the new order quickly enough and the game went smoothly. It didn't help his odds, though. The young thief won four games in a row and only then did she decide to lean back and let the men have a fair shot against one another. Roland gave her a friendly nod.

"Luck must favor you, Lena." A blush colored her cheeks at the German nickname as she shook her head.

"Not really, Orlando. You simply have to memorize the order of the cards for this kind of game, and, well, I've done that enough for a living. And if the game demands luck, well, if you've got quick hands, luck is on your side." Scars raised a brow, looking up from his hand.

"So, you do belong to La Volpe's men?" Elena made a show of studying the grains of wood in the tabletop and nodded.

"God-card-counting-damn it, I'm done. I can't." Lex threw down his cards and threw up his hands as he flopped back into his chair and shut his eyes with a heavy sigh. Stephen looked between the pouting Journeyman and Scars before whispering to Willy, "He knows he won second place, aye?"

"It's not your ill-luck or lack of skill, _maestro_. Not really."

"That makes me feel so much better."

Elena shook her head. "The streets have been swarming with Templars and mercenaries lately, so making a living as a thief has become more difficult, especially for the younger ones, and card games bring at least some money if you're good at them. Having to take extra precautions against being caught was often a pain the young ones complained of as well, but one night spent in Templar custody is one too much." Scars nodded; he had heard his share of the makeshift prisons his fellow Owlets had discovered with the help of Ezio and his other men, as well as the many disappearances that preceded them.

Lex remained silent as the talk turned to Templar prisons, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The thief looked at him and frowned as he made no move, glancing at the two men on either side of her. Roland looked back at her before slowly reaching out a hand and touching the Sparrow's arm. He gasped and flinched back, almost toppling his chair in the process. Scars reached over and gripped his arm to steady him and his seat.

Roland was the first to speak again while Stephen searched for something in his bag.

"Guess each of us has unpleasant memories connected to the White Cloaks." He nodded when Lex glanced over at him. "Those bastards are responsible for inflicting severe illness on many of the not so wealthy of our hometown by gifting them food and clothes so the merchants would buy medicine only the Order provided. One of my sisters nearly died because of that."

"I heard a fire there stopped the Templars' plans," said Scars. Roland and Stephen looked at each other. Roland sighed and leaned against the table with one arm.

"That is a long story..."

The group glanced up as the Sparrow let out a long breath. Managing to find his tongue afterward, Lex whispered, "We got time. Feel like telling?"

"My sister Anna had been fighting the fever for a week," Roland began, his Italian laden with a heavy German accent, "and the medicine she needed was simply too expensive to afford. Herbs and other remedies had been all bought by the Templars long before, so nothing was available. Though Father forbade it, we broke into a pharmacy, intent on getting something for her. There we overheard two guards talking about what I first told you. We followed them to the harbor, as without proof nothing could have been done to stop them." The Falcon lowered his head as his voice trailed off, his gaze thoughtful.

"And that was when things didn't go as planned," the Scot continued with a snort. "Twenty soldiers surrounded two boys hardly sixteen. I bit the one holding me, making his torch drop, which was not such a good thing to happen in a hall where mostly linen and wool were stored. The chaos helped us to get out of it, without any proof."

"Our father sent us away from Bremen the next night. Seeing as my family has had connections with the Brotherhood for decades, they sent us into the custody of Caterina Sforza," Roland finished, his voice leaden. He didn't say how he missed the family he had to leave behind, though the others could hear it in his words. The two looked up at their companions once the tale was through. Elena seemed well-pleased, a little admiring smile on her lips. Scars was nodding. Lex had leaned forward nearly across the table, his eyes wide, as if waiting for more. "It was worth it, I deem. Those bastards are still trying to rebuild their former forces as the harbor burning cost them pretty much all of their funds. And no more deaths from that fever."

"Caterina Sforza?" Lex asked.

"Aye, that's what he said," snorted Stephen with a roll of his eyes.

"The lady who's currently captured by the Borgias? Who's currently their prisoner? She was actually in charge of people? Are you shitting me?" The Sparrow looked at him as if he'd taken off his head and started juggling it. Shaun had had the good grace to give him a crash course in history over the last few weeks, but he couldn't bring himself to believe anything that was said about the woman without an entire shaker of salt at the ready. "No, wait, don't answer that." He rubbed at his forehead and temples and sighed. "I can guess. I can guess. Wait, if you guys were in her custody, how or why'd you end up here?"

Stephen gave him a grin matching Willy's, took a roll of parchment out of his shoulder bag, and handed it to Scars and Lex before Roland could say anything.

"Ehm... I told you about my brother and authorities."

The two looked at the unrolled parchment, up at Stephen, then at the sheet again. On it was a nude Caterina Sforza, doing what to Lex seemed the Ping-Pong trick from the USO show the _South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut_ movie. A smile appeared on Scars' face as he looked from Stephen to the image and back again once more.

"So you were behind it? You'll be pleased to know your drawings still sell very well. That Sforza woman was raging about it at Monteriggioni."

"Can we keep this and frame it and hang it on the wall somewhere?" Lex wondered, trying to imagine it hanging on one of the walls in the room they sat in. Stephen smiled and nodded, hugging Willy to his chest. Elena leaned over then, managing a peek at the drawing. This time she didn't blush, but gave Stephen an appreciative nod, making the Scot beam all the more.

"One question, if I may ask. What did the Night Master wish from you when he called the two of you the other day?"

"He wanted to know exactly what'd happened to the two ninnies in the infirmary," Lex answered, his mind traveling back over the short conversation.

_Jameel sat at his desk, writing in his journal. What he was writing couldn't be said; when Lex drew near, he shut the book, not even looking up to say, "Hello, Lex." It was the old, familiar Arabic, almost like a caress._

"Hello, Jameel."

"I hear you've already put two Novices in the infirmary in less than two hours. Is that supposed to be an accomplishment?" The Red Owl turned his gaze toward him. It wasn't the blizzard Lex had been expecting, but it wasn't the snowfall either. It was more the world after the snow had already fallen and both sky and land were cast in white. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with the shadows of many sleepless nights.

"I'd prefer to call it threshing the grain." It was impulsive, something he wouldn't usually have said. It earned him another of the tired looks from the other immortal.

"And I'd prefer to call it something you won't make a habit of."

Silence fell between them, the Owl's head bowed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. Lex frowned, brows furrowing to match those of his lover, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Can..." He made to move a hand, reaching to touch his shoulder, to rub the tension out of his back.

"Yes?" Jameel lifted his head, hearing the movement more than the word he'd spoken, his gaze now questioning.

The Sparrow lowered his arm, looking away from him, toward one wall that was slowly becoming decorated with diagrams of weapons, enemies, armor, allies. Beneath the hodgepodge of charcoal and parchment was a low bed, made but unused.

"Can I sleep in here with you tonight?"

Lex was woken from his thoughts by the scratching of charcoal on parchment. He began to wonder where the Scot got his supply of it, then remembered what Roland had said about Stephen's definition of personal property. He turned his head as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. A very tired looking Bear appeared in the doorway. He sighed when he looked toward the young thief.

The Sparrow looked between Elena and Uberto. He knew that look; he'd seen it before on some of his teachers' faces before returning a paper to him.

"Young lady, I have no idea what I shall do with you," the tall monk addressed the girl. "You can read and you're not bad at that, but what in all the names of the holy is this?" He held up a sheet of parchment. "If I didn't know what I'd dictated to you, I'd have no idea what your writing is supposed to mean here."

The Sparrow lifted a brow as Elena bowed her head, standing and moving to get a better look at the page the monk was holding. He tilted his head first to one side, then the other and back again. It was a second before what he was seeing finally clicked, his mind sifting back, back, back through time. Or, as was the case with where he stood then, forward.

"Oh," he said, running a hand through his hair as he wondered why he hadn't recognized the problem straightaway. "I think I see what's going on here."

The thief, who'd been playing with the deck of cards to avoid meeting Uberto's eyes, looked up at Lex and frowned.

"What do you mean, _maestro_?" Lex went to the table and flopped back into his chair, the page still in his hand. He pointed to the writing, a few vague scribbles and jumbles of words with odd spaces and capitalizations here and there.

"I think you might have dyslexia. I'm not a pro by any means at diagnosing stuff like that, but judging from having to read my dyslexic friend Halim's writing for thirteen years, you might have it."

Elena looked between them again, utterly confused and at a loss for how to respond. She had never such words before. _Is it an illness, or is it just a scholarly way of saying I'm stupid?_ she thought. "It's an illness, but one that can be worked with." Lex tapped his head. "Your brain's wired differently, so sometimes words and letters get fucked up or jumbled, or it takes a little longer for you to process them." Even as he said it, he knew the explanation fell nearer to the shittier range than top notch on the scale of explanations, but it was all he could think of for how to describe the problem without the aid of a medical dictionary.

Elena was still looking down, studying her hands, when she felt her hair ruffled gently.

"Dunnae frown, lassie. Your mind cannot be as tangled as mine is. Just ask Willy—he knows what I'm talking about." The Scot tapped her forehead, making the girl blush brightly. "And she who simply manages to learn to memorize cards that quickly must have something in there." The monk shook his head at Stephen's words but joined in giving the red-cheeked young thief a smile before he turned to where Ignacio stood off to the side, talking to the Romani leader.

The young monk stood toe to toe with the man, their heads close together. Both Luca's hands rested on his shoulders; the Rom's fingers worked the muscle beneath absently.

"We've finally settled in," he said, smiling down at the Mouse. "What of you? How are things here for you?"

Ignacio returned the smile, his own face reddening at Luca's touch.

"A lot of work to do for me here. Many, many new recruits, and some of them still have to learn that this is not a game at all." Not wanting to lean into the Rom Baro in the open, he settled for fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. "I always thought that the nobles would grant their offspring a decent education and some common sense, but it seems the _contadini_ do a better job of that." Luca jumped as the little monk suddenly slapped his forehead and hissed what sounded like a very fluent curse under his breath. Following him off, the pair returned to the group gathered around the table shortly afterward, Inigo now in possession of a small, iron box. "Can any of you help me to get this thing open again?"

"What the ever living fuck is that? A gift from the man in the iron mask?" Lex said as he and the others gathered around. Scars paused in his movements to find a good position only to give the Sparrow's head a shove. "Hey!"

"May I?" Elena asked. Ignacio handed the box over as the girl took out what looked like a bundle of dirty rags from her pocket, unwrapping it to reveal a set of shiny metallic tools. She picked up a thin, needle-like device and one that looked like an allen wrench. The others had hardly counted to three when the box popped open. The smell of costly oils and incense came from the interior. Uberto grinned and gave Elena a nod of thanks.

"Now we know who to ask if Brother Gabriele once again forgets to send the keys along. I guess we'll be receiving those sometime next month." The Sparrow leaned over and gave the box a deep sniff.

"Myrrh, frankincense, jasmine, rose, lavender, but no hash," he reported, his tone almost sad with that last item. The monks turned and walked away to bring the valuable goods to safety, Luca just behind, while Elena ordered and rewrapped her tools. Stephen pondered a few minutes, then tugged Roland's sleeve, whispering into his brother's ear. The German nodded and took a small pouch from his belt, handing it over to Lex.

"Feel free to help yourself, _sayyid_."

The Sparrow looked at Roland, then opened the pouch and stared at its contents. Leaning down, he took a deep, experimental breath. A smile spread across his face as he set the pouch down and pulled a small square of parchment from one of the pouches on his belt. Rolling some of the herb into a rough joint, he lit the one end on one of the candles and dragged deeply. Letting it out again more slowly than he'd taken it in, he looked over at the others.

"You guys might wanna go train or something. I think me and your gift'll be a while." The brothers grinned and led the smaller female out. Scars made to follow, only to stop at the threshold. The Journeyman looked up at the Owlet, pausing in the middle of his second drag. "Hnn?"

"Don't be so greedy with that little gift. I'm going out there with them and you'd better save me some." The red-clad man disappeared as the time traveler broke into hacking laughter.

X x X

"_Allahu Akbar..._" The voice was soft yet sonorous. The Brit found himself blinking away sleep. The first faint rays of light were not even cascading through the wooden blinds, though Shaun could make out thin, patched strip of canvas that served as a curtain. "_Allahu Akbar..._"

The Harrier crawled soundlessly from their shared pallet, pulling his rumpled tunic straight with one hand. Something tugged inside of him then, a thrill he hadn't felt since his boyhood. As he took up his own kneeling position beside the other man, he bowed his head, hands coming together automatically. The first notes rose up out of him, ringing from his throat, a single, deep sound.

"_Kyrie..._"

Badr continued, "_Ash-hadu an-la ilaha illa llah..._" Shaun fell in time with him, "_...eleison..._"

The songs continued, meshing into one resonant piece as the sun finished surmounting the horizon, the rays of light streaming in through the wooden slats, blinding the Englishman. After a time, his vision cleared, but for the spots of black and purple that danced on his retinas, and he was able to look over at the other man.

"I believe what we just did is called _quid lobet_. Mixing two pieces of music that shouldn't really come together," he whispered.

"And I believe, Novice," Badr replied, his face still turned toward the sun, "that what we just did is called praying."

X x X

"So, riddle me this, Red Arrow: when did I sign up for archery practice?" Lex asked as he stood with the quiver strapped to his back, one of the Owlets' recurved bows in hand.

"A few days ago. Don't you remember?" Lex thought back to what they had been speaking of. Jameel's Owlets, that's what it was. He had wondered then why they all were archers. Scars had simply said it was a useful skill for long ranged combat—why close in on the enemy when one could simply pick him off with a well-placed bolt? It had reminded him of the guns in Acre. That was when he'd made the mistake of saying he was a more or less fair shot. Scars hadn't believed him and wanted to put him to the test.

_Now here we stand, me looking like an idiot and him like a drill sergeant._ The Sparrow glanced up as he felt a drop of water hit his nose. The sky, now clear, betrayed nothing of where the water had come from. _And it's going to rain sometime soon. Lovely._ "Draw," Scars ordered. Lex looked at him dumbly for a minute before he reached back and fumbled an arrow out of the quiver. He almost dropped it as he brought it over his shoulder. Looking at the thing as if it was going to turn into a snake, he found where the butt fitted against the string, drawing it back to his ear as he raised the bow. His arms began to tremble from shoulder to fingertip as he tried to see how to sight down the arrow toward the target. "Loose." The time traveler yelped as the string snapped against his hidden blade bracer, more surprised than actually injured. The arrow sailed wide of where he'd aimed and clattered to rest against the wall.

"Fuck!" Scars chuckled almost inaudibly as the Sparrow swore, taking up another bow from the rack it rested on and stringing it effortlessly.

"Try this one, Hakim." The two traded bows as Lex nocked another arrow. He drew back again, trying to reach his ear once more. Both his arms screamed at the tension. He shivered as fingers slid along his arm, adjusting his hold on the bow and the arrow. The orders were heated whispers in his ear, "Two fingers below, not one. What are you doing with your other hand? Close your fingers. Make a fist beneath the arrow. There. Who taught you to draw string to ear?"

"Robin Hood."

Scars snorted and moved his right hand once more. "Thumb to cheek, Hakim. Relax your elbow. No, the other elbow, your left. Just so. Now loose."

"Should I go on?" a new voice asked. "Or just give up?"

The arrow landed in the straw dummy's kneecap.

"Were you even looking at the target?" Scars asked.

"Huh? What?" The Sparrow looked away from Scars to where the arrow had made its new home. "Yeah, was going for the knees." He shrugged as well as his aching shoulders allowed. He'd been aiming for the head, but the Owlet's proximity and the new voice had distracted him. He looked over at the girl who stood on the edge of the training ring. "You just going to sit there and talk to yourself, or are you wanting to join us?"

The girl looked up from where she sat muttering to herself.

"Oh, no, I'm all right." She was a slight girl, dirty blonde and pale, though it seemed she'd gotten sunburnt on her cheeks, nose, and high, high forehead. _Yeesh, kid, what happened to that forehead?_ thought the Sparrow. _What's her name? Deidre? Daphne? Dianna, that's it!_ "I was just going anyway, maestro." The girl turned to leave, the leg of her pants catching on strut of the fence and sending her sprawling to the stones. Both the men winced as she spluttered and shot to her feet again, muffling a noise of pain as she hurried to the door. "Maybe go see Rina for that sunburn?"

Whether she heard him or not was hard to tell, though the small Journeyman was sure he wasn't hallucinating when he saw Giacomo of all people start after her to bring her in the right direction.

"Are you done watching that Novice?" Lex nodded. "Good." Scars took up his station beside him, well out of misfire range, and began barking orders once more, "Draw. Aim. Loose." Lex released, the arrow finding its way to the dummy's other knee. "Stop giving those men arrows to the knee!"

"He was a man like me," intoned the Sparrow, "until he took an arrow the knee!"

"Draw!"" He jumped and obeyed. "Aim! Loose!" Lex panted as he drew another arrow, unsure where the last had even fallen.

"Why are you making me do suicide runs?"

"You can quit once you've hit something vital. Draw! Aim! Loose!" The Owlet paused as he saw where the latest arrow had landed, his face flushed, the fletch still quivering out of the dummy's crotch as Lex grinned cheekily over at him.

X x X

The Sparrow wandered the roofs of Rome, the Petrel by his side for a change with Willy resting in his pack as usual. He had learned Stephen's bird during the last few rainy weeks of March that led into an equally wet start to April.

"April showers bring May flowers," he'd told himself as yet another day dawned gray and bleak. "And May flowers bring—" A tackle had sent him sprawling to the wet pile of laundry behind him.

"A Stormbird's hug to cheer up wee Sawney?" the Scot had said. "Although I've naught to do with flowers and rain?"

Lex had learned to bear the rain to do his rounds of patrol. It was something to do in any case. He and Scars usually went together, sometimes he and Amir. When Stephen decided to join, it more often than not became a race around the area with the goal of getting back to home base.

The two hopped from roof to roof, not their usual frenzied pace, more a leisurely stroll this time.

"Say, Sawney. What is the scarred Owlet making such a mystery about?" Stephen looked curiously at the Sparrow, one arm extended in case the little Journeyman should need it for balance; the slick tile and his footing still were sometimes at odds with one another. "Says you've been setting up things for your recruits."

"Well, if I told you, that'd ruin the surprise, wouldn't it, Stevie?" The teen smiled widely up at the man, taking his hand from his arm. "You'll just have to wait and see. It'll be ready by the time the weekend's up."

"You confused something, wee master. The patient one of us brother is blonde, beardier, and a smidgeon taller than me is." Stephen grinned, hopped over to the next roof, and headed down to the street the next moment, making for the island where the headquarters lay.

Lex staggered as he dropped down to land on the cobbles, trotting and weaving through the throng to be at the Petrel's side once more.

"Well, pretend it's Christmas or something."

Stephen sighed and pouted, muttering to himself in Gael. Lex had to cock his head and squint, but was sure he'd heard "Stubborn, sneaky Sawney" mixed in with the unintelligible rambling.

From outside with the rain beginning to come down in sheets, the building they walked toward seemed the dead husk of an absurdly-stacked wooden soufflé whose layers had caved in one atop the other. Both knew, however, that life swarmed beneath and within.

"_Salve_, Uberto, Lena," Lex called as they headed into the room off the entrance that had more or less become the drying room for anyone entering the building. Stephen went off to where Roland sat to grouse to him about their tight-lipped mentor. "What's up?" The monk handed him another sheaf of parchment covered in Elena's handwriting.

"Decided to assign you the task of transcribing what your student has put there into plain letters for this old Bear," explained Uberto while he scratched his chin. He nodded to Elena, who sat with a pile of metal snippets in front of her on the table. "May you be as creative with your tinkering as you are with creating new words, little Robin." The girl blushed and studied the metal bits intently as the monk strode away.

Lex pushed back his dripping hood, his hair, lank and blackened by the weather but for a few cowlicks, curling about the nape of his neck. Shucking off his boots and socks, he drew off his sodden robes and inspected his tunic. Deciding it wasn't wet enough to quit, he flopped into a chair and tilted his head back, eyes shut as he sighed.

"I'm a little nervous of the trials to come, _maestro_," Elena murmured. "Will those not passing be sent away?" Lex shook his head, sniffed as he heard the sound of a plate being set down on the table, not wanting to open his eyes just yet.

"It depends, I suppose. We'll just have to wait and see." He pointed toward the table. "Is it warm and is it edible?"

"It's a new recipe from Naples, _Meister_," said Roland. "Some of the recruits taught it to us." Lex opened an eye before both opened wide, the film of tiredness melting away as he stared at the plate. "It's only a peasant dish, but—"

"God exists."

"_Was?_" the German asked, startled by the youth's sudden affirmation of the divine presence, where before they had never spoken of his beliefs.

"God does indeed exist," Lex pounded the table with the flat of his hand to emphasize each word. "Pizza is in the house, on a plate right in front of me! God fucking exists, end of story!" The three Novices watched as the Sparrow took up the morsel—no more than a slice of flatbread topped with goat's cheese, and a few slices of salted meat and fish, oil, and garlic—and ate slowly, savoring each mouthful like it was his last. "There's no tomato sauce. God, you're a cruel, twisted mother fucker."

Stephen glanced toward his companions before whispering, "Methinks our poor teacher's gone a bit daft with the weather. Needs some sun to dry out his brains."

X x X

The Novices were awakened and in the _campo_ as dawn broke. A large wooden post had been driven into the ground, an arrow sunk into the wood far above their heads. Scars stood off to one side leisurely, back against a tree. His quiver rested in a similar position, bow over one shoulder. His eyes were on the Sparrow as he waited for him to begin the day's activities. Thankfully, the rain had stopped for the time being.

Lex stood at parade rest before the little group, or as close to it as he could come, watching its members knuckle the remaining dregs of sleep from their eyes. He addressed each of them in turn with a nod, "Hercole. Stephen, Willy. Roland. Elena. Giacomo. Dianna."

"Yes?" the last girl yawned. Each Novice dealt differently with being addressed by the little Journeyman. Stephen was bursting with excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet and gave off little wordless noises while Roland tried to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't start going backflips where he stood, the blonde man entirely relaxed. Elena was tense, Giacomo and Hercole regaling one another with bawdy jests.

_How shall these ever become proper Assassins?_ Scars thought. His eyes flicked from Elena to Giacomo, Hercole to Dianna, landing on Lex again. _Most of them are hardly more than children._

"I'd like to see how you all'd get me that arrow." Walking over to one of the trees opposite Scars, he pocketed his hands and waited, watching.

At first, the Novices were confused by the request. That was all? Hercole was the first to head up to the post. It took him a good deal of time and left him with a great many splinters in his fingers, but he managed it. With a broad grin, he thrust it to Scars, who took it without so much as a blink. Dianna hardly made it off the ground while Giacomo's hands slipped when he was almost to the top. He grabbed the arrow for purchase, but to no avail. The landing was inelegant, but luck was on his side—the arrow had been pulled down with his weight. Snapped in half, but down.

When Scars shot a fresh arrow into the pole, he pointed to Roland to try next. Roland looked at the pole for so long Hercole snarled, "It will not come to you if you simply stand and stare at it." Roland turned to Lex.

"It's just to get the arrow back, no matter how?" A nod. The Falcon stepped forward, took a good grip on the pole, and lifted it, laying it down on its side as if it weighed no more than a log for the fire. He bowed, plucked the arrow out, and handed it to Scars. The rest of the group stood slack-jawed, the archer among their number. Then a grin spread across the small Journeyman's face from ear to ear, wide enough to give even Willy competition.

"I—I don't even..." He gestured to the pole almost helplessly as he broke into a fit of giggles. "Can you put it back for us again?"

"That's cheating!" Hercole cried, but fell silent as Scars glared him down.

"He solved the task successfully his way." He looked at Roland. "Put it back, Falcon." Roland put the thing back as easily as he'd plucked it out. Stephen stepped forward after Scars put the arrow into the wood.

"We can use whatever we got on hand?" The Owlet nodded. "Need ye, _Bruderherz_." Stephen waved his brother back over and swiftly climbed onto his shoulders. Roland being a head taller than him, he came nearly level with the fletch after having sought a good, balance stance on the other man. Stephen then took Willy out of his shoulder bag and used the skull as a sort of clamp to pluck the arrow out.

"Pffff." Lex snorted as he went over and took the proffered shaft from Stephen as he hopped down from atop his brother and walked over to Scars. "Can I shoot it this time?" The scarred Owlet looked at him as if he'd just asked if he could eat a bowl of fried worms in front of the assembled Novices. Lex gave him an endearing smile, causing the man to emit an overdramatically loud sigh of exasperation and say as he handed over the bow, "Don't miss."

The Owlet watched with his heart in his throat as Lex took aim. _He'll miss,_ he feared, _or he'll break my bow. God, don't let him break my bow._ The Sparrow did neither, the arrow finding its home in the highest point of the pole. A thump on his back almost sent him sprawling, the swordsman giving him a brief, one-armed squeeze before retrieving his bow.

Elena glanced up at the pole thoughtfully. The wood offered no holds for either feet or hands and the sweat and blood left on it would make the ascent even more difficult. _No wonder Stefano and Orlando worked out other ways. But I cannot simply repeat Stefano's solution._

"How long will it take, woman?" Hercole bellowed.

"I don't want to wait the rest of the day until you get your ass up there," Giacomo added. They were silenced as the swordsman, medic, and the taller, northern Novices gave them frigid stares. Hercole managed to roll his eyes when he saw the girl empty her pockets and start to bend the snippets of metal that had been therein, though even Scars allowed his eyes to widen slightly at how quickly her hands moved from one piece to the next. In less than a minute, the little metallic claw was attached to two thin ropes. The Robin climbed up into the tree Scars leaned against and made her way out onto one of the branches, minimizing her distance to the pole. The world had gone silent but for the early morning birdsong heralding the day as she tossed out the hook. The device wrapped around the shaft and allowed her to pull it loose with a quick jerk.

"Nananananananananananana! Batman!" Lex crowed, grinning from ear to ear even as he and Scars ducked to avoid the hook possibly smacking them in the face on the way down. "Can you make me one?" Elena smiled as she dropped down from the branch.

"If you grant me some time, I will craft you one, _passero_." Lex nodded and waved the Novices away to prepare for the next task however they would and to get a good breakfast in. His stomach decided for him that he would do the same. The swordsman fell in step beside the Sparrow.

"What do you think of what we saw?"

"Think they did pretty damn well for phase one. We have phase two ready?" Lex asked, looking over at him. Stepping closer, he wrapped an arm around the other man's waist. Scars gave him a look, confused by the sudden closeness, but let him be, eventually placing his own arm around Lex's neck.

"Any favorites you'd like to pick, seeing all six passed this first one? Well, some in better ways than others. But you'll make the final decision."

"So far, I still want to feet Hercole and Giacomo my fists, but I'll keep my favoritisms to myself. At least you're not willing to say who you're placing your bets on." Scars shook his head but didn't respond to the little jab or the cock-eyed grin the Sparrow threw him. He followed Lex to the room where the next task was set up after a brief stop in the kitchen. The two shared slices of warm, jam-smeared bread quietly in the room before they heard the Novices enter.

The Assassins bolted to their feet as if caught at something terrible. Lex hastily licked around his mouth, trying to free his face of the crumbs stuck to it by the sticky preserves. He gave up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The Novices gathered around. Set before them on a table were several objects, including daggers, throwing knives, hidden guns, a flower, an assortment of swords, a long, thin needle of bone, and a set of bows, a quiver of arrows, and a crossbow.

"All right, lads and lassies," said the Sparrow, "choose whichever weapon you think is best for successfully finishing a target."

Hercole grasped a bastard sword while Giacomo went for the crossbow. Dianna looked a little longer at the collection, but then took the nightshade flower in her hand. Lex gave an involuntary shudder as he saw which item the girl had chosen. Scars looked at Roland, who stood before the table but made no move toward any of the weapons. The Owlet's look became questioning as after a time he still showed no sign of choosing.

"Well," said the German finally, "if the task is to finish your target and not be spotted afterward, it would be wise to use something that does not look like a weapon." He smiled and showed Scars his huge, calloused hands, a long scar lining his left palm. "These would be my choice. Nothing else I need to end a life."

"Nice choice." Lex smiled. "Glad you're on my side." The blonde chuckled and ruffled his mentor's hair. For an instant, the Sparrow was sure that if he'd wanted, Roland could have crushed his head like an overripe melon.

Elena stepped forward next. She looked the table up and down before her eyes fell on the thin device that glowed faintly with a bleached white light. She picked up the hollow needle and nodded, having seen both implements in Orianna's workshop and upon Amir's person when he chose to unveil them. Scars nodded at her choice.

Once Elena had returned to her place, Stephen stepped up, only to step back again. Wrapping his arms around Elena and Roland, he said, "These're the best weapons a man could have, Sawney." Lex smiled slowly, nodding to him.

Hercole wanted to say something, but then he saw Roland folding his arms over his broad chest and how the man regarded him with a stricter glare than even the Owlet. He remembered as well how Roland had almost broken his arm when he'd tossed him from the training ring, so his trap remained firmly shut.

"That is it for today," said the swordsman. "There will be one last trial to come for those of you who are selected. Keep to your training. Dismissed."

When the Novices were gone, Jameel stepped from the shadows where he'd been waiting.

"Well, little bird, I guess now we can have a talk about where we will send whom."

"Can we give Ezio the moron twins?" Lex asked, managing a small smile. Jameel lifted a brow and shook his head. "But, really, Hercole and Giacomo aren't gonna mix well with the others. Dianna might go good with Rina."

"That is what I thought, too," said Scars. He exchanged glances with Lex. "And that leaves the trouble-makers to be assigned to you." Lex glanced from Scars to Jameel, who was now grinning. It was a look he hadn't seen in a long time, not since he had become a Journeyman in Masyaf. Cautiously, carefully, Jameel took his face into his hands, rubbing his cheeks with his thumb. His voice lowered, as if speaking intimately to his Sparrow alone, his gaze softening in a way the swordsman hadn't seen before, though at points he spoke to both the young men before him.

"Ezio and I have had some long talks about this, both in person and by message. Machiavelli and La Volpe as well. We thought a sort of third branch would be a good idea, between the guilds and the regular Assassins. People who think and fight in such ways neither the Templars nor the Crows could ever foresee. And for that you two, and your Novices, have found yourselves apt candidates." Scars glanced at Lex, who looked as dumbfounded as disbelieving as he felt. Taking a hand from the Sparrow's cheek, Jameel placed it on the red-clad Novice's shoulder. "The ceremony will not be for a time, not until our forces have been settled and this fiasco with the Sforza woman taken care of, but you both should know and act now as you are." He gave them each a nod, which they barely figured out how to return. "Journeyman, you know your duties. Go to them." Scars gawped at him for a second before slapping his fist to his chest and hurrying away.

Jameel returned his gaze to Lex, his hand once more brushing his face. Giving him a soft smile, he reached down and took the bracer from his lover's left arm. Slipping the one off his own, he murmured, "You've earned this, little bird." The Sparrow watched as the straps were tightened down on his forearm, remembering a time long ago when he had done the same thing with one of Jameel's battered hidden blades. Lips pressed to his brow as fingers combed into his lengthened, curling hair, a trail of kisses pressed from forehead to crown as he was pulled to the Red Owl's chest. "My little Novice. But that was so long ago. You're a Master Assassin now."

The immortal felt his stomach flutter as a shiver traversed his spine, his lover's arms wound tight around him. Stroking his head, he whispered, "Go watch the gates, little Sparrow. We'll have visitors soon enough." He watched as the young man nodded, turning and trotting away. For a moment, he was back in the dusty center of a market, watching the same young man, little more than a boy, run up the slope that lead to an ancient fortress. The same comfortable ghost of his embrace hung around his middle. _Oh, Lord, how I missed this feeling._

**Project time is coming up in school, so I'm not sure when I'll post the next chapter. We'll just have to wait and see. But you guys keep reading and I'll keep writing.**


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